


The Good, The Bad, and The (Un)Dead

by Ce_ba



Category: Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare, Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Awful stuff happens, Basically a lot of shit happens to everyone, Blood, But now and then they have good moments, Gen, Gore, Idk how to tag this without spoilering, M/M, Suffering, Valentine is a creepy bastard, Violence, Zombies, a bit of fluff too, zombie apocalypse AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:24:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 40,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5118479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ce_ba/pseuds/Ce_ba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since the end of the world Alec has had one goal: keep his family alive. But when the Lightwoods get thrown into the world of Clary Fray, a short, red-headed she-devil, the task seems to become increasingly impossible - especially since running into danger head first seems to be a Lightwood specialty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably going to be the most mature fic that I have ever written and will possibly ever write. Which is why I'm very unsure about the rating. (It's not Explicit, but is it above Teen?)
> 
> THINGS THAT NEED TO BE SAID: This chapter is not proof-read by anyone but me (and Office) (Office sucks at proof reading), so I'm sorry for any mistakes. Aside from not having anyone to proof-read I also just finished writing because I thought posting a zombie-themed fic on Halloween was a really good plan. Because of this hurry the title may still change.  
> I also need to apologize in advance: I am not a regular updater. I have a lot to do sometimes and sometimes don't manage to sit my ass down and get stuff done. It's an ugly habit and I'm trying to break out of it. (If you feel like you've been waiting too long you are welcome to tell me to get my shit together. Just don't be mean.)
> 
> AND MOST IMPORTANTLY: I have no clue where this fic is headed. I have vague ideas what will happen and why. But they are very vague and probably will continue to be vague until I write them down in the chapters to come. Which is also why not all tags may yet apply and further tags will be added. But, I want to keep it that way because I'm writing this fic alongside some original stuff and I want to use this opportunity to make stuff up as I go.

Alec was glad that zombies had shit for aim or else he would have been Jace's height, minus some vital organs that were located in his head. As it was the ax – some zombies possessed still enough brain of their own to use anything but their bare hands as weapons – sailed over his shoulder and embedded itself in the wooden planks of some nailed-shut window. He didn’t even care enough to sigh in relief.

Slipping a knife from his belt he ran it through the nearest zombie’s neck. Black, clotted blood splattered on his boots as the body hit the floor. Alec readjusted the cloth wrapped around the lower half of his face to keep the stench out. It only helped marginally.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught the zombie he thought must have thrown the ax, now assailing his brother. The knife flew quickly before piercing the zombie in the back. It gave a pitiful wail.

Jace swirled around and casually decapitated it, then ran his sword through the one behind him in one fluid motion. The backyard stilled.

“Seriously?” Laughter was bubbling up and out of Jace. “That was all?”

Isabelle joined his laughter, fidgeting with one of her braids.

“Be glad it wasn’t more,” Alec warned them. Not that it did any good. It wasn’t like they listened to anything Alec said when it wasn’t a direct order, and Alec had given up a long time ago to make Jace and Isabelle take things more seriously. It was a game to them and so Alec let it be. He guessed it was easier for them to deal with it that way.

“Hey, can you hand me that?,” Isabelle asked Jace, pointing at Alec’s knife. Jace threw it and Isabelle wiped it clean on her clothes before using it to pin up an escaped braid. Alec just gave them a disdainful glare before moving to inspect the barricaded building behind him.

Unlike his siblings Alec didn’t enjoy any of it. He didn’t welcome the adrenaline signing through his veins as he lifted a blade to separate the useless heads of the undead from their bodies. Not even his beloved bow and arrow made any difference when he used them to pierce decaying hearts. No, Alec didn’t like the apocalypse a single bit and maybe that was why he had assumed responsibility when they had been cut down to a trio.

He had always been the one to protect his siblings and keep an eye on them when they got themselves in dangerous situations that they claimed were fun. Alec tried to think of this just a worse, more dangerous situation. Sometimes he almost succeeded.

Shaking the thought from his head he focused on the task at hand. While the windows where all nailed shut the door had been left open, although Alec figured whoever had hid here had probably supported it from the inside. Still, it looked abandoned enough to try.

Alec jiggled the doorknob. The door flew off it’s hinges, landing on the floor with a massive _thump._ He sidestepped so it wouldn’t bury him. As he did something cold and sharp cut his cheek.

“Shit, Alec!,” Jace yelled.

Absently assessing his face Alec stared at the scene in front of him: At his feet lay a skeleton, bones white and clean. Whoever it had been was gone completely, no traces of flesh or clothing left behind. A sword held the ribcage in place, the other parts were strewn across the threshold and around the floor.

The skull had come off and rolled over to Isabelle who picked it up. She looked at Alec with wide eyes. Then she screamed.

Alec whirled around and stumbled backward. Eyes peered out of the darkness, wide and unblinking. Madness gleamed in them and something else Alec couldn’t identify. They grew bigger as whatever they belonged to advanced.

The thing squinted at the sunlight, cocking it’s head at Alec.

“Boy,” it slurred. There was a hole in it’s cheek and whenever it took so much as a breath it whistled. “To eat? Yes, meat. Hungry.”

Alec took another step back as the zombie approached. It reached a hand out toward him and Alec wasn’t sure whether it was rags or skin that flapped from it’s arm. Then it stumbled mid stride.

Something small shot past it and past Alec.

He didn’t have time to find out what it had been. From the size and speed he guessed something human. Someone human. That was his last coherent thought before more zombies replaced the first one.

At this point they had started to look all the same to Alec, though they never got less gruesome. They were grunting and screeching in low, feral tones. He lowered the hand that had been grasping for arrows and searched his weapons belt for a blade. With bow and arrow he wouldn’t stand a chance against the oncoming tide of the undead in close quarters.

When he came back empty handed he silently cursed himself for not ripping the sword out of the door, then held out his hand towards his brother. “Jace!”

Alec hated fighting. He wasn’t as good as Jace or as Isabelle. He was the one who ended up with the most bruises and threw the least punches. But, he had never been afraid of doing it anyway. His siblings always had his back, the way he always had theirs. They were a well oiled fighting machine. If they ever needed anything in a fight they could rely on the other to provide it.

Today there never came so much as a knife.

Alec kept holding out his hand as long as possible, staggering backwards and away from the enemy until he had a functioning weapon, but when he looked back Jace was gone. He heard Isabelle’s whip next to him, knew that at least his sister was there to back him up. In a last resort Alec threw himself at the nearest zombie, pummeling it with his fists. When he got a good grip on it’s head he broke it’s neck.

By then the next zombie was upon him, clawing at his shoulder with spidery fingers. Alec managed to rip himself free. “Jace!,” he yelled again.

“Alec!,” Isabelle screamed, too late. The zombie had sneaked up behind Alec, strangling him. He tried to pry off it’s arms but all he could grasp was loose flesh.

A knife whizzed past him, burying itself in the head of his assailant and ripping it from him. Still fighting for breath Alec took a moment to realize he should probably retrieve the knife. Before he could bend down something tackled him and he went down in the melee.

There were zombies stumbling over him, and writhing on him, and kicking dirt in his face. It was luck that no one stabbed him by accident. Somehow he managed to get back on his feet.

Over the hellish mob he could see his sister, a hurricane of death and destruction. There was a flash of golden hair at the far side of the crowd. Alec felt both relief and anger at the sight of his brother.

Knowing that his siblings were alright for the moment Alec did the sensible thing and bolted.

He made for the edge of the backyard, shouldering zombies aside without bothering to kill them. When they had first come here he had seen a ladder there. Alec hoped it was still there. He needed high ground. He needed distance.

The ladder was gone but he soon spotted a pile of debris in front of a precariously low hanging part of roof. _This_ _is_ _not a good idea_ , Alec thought before he jumped. His hands got hold of the roof tiles and he began to pull himself up.

One of the zombies must have noticed because something slimy and heavy had gripped his ankle, trying to pull him down. His hold on the tiles slipped but Alec knew it would be worse if he tried to shake off the zombie first. Up was the only option, so up he climbed. The tiles were old and broken, cutting open Alec’s arms, yet the zombie didn’t seem to notice. It crawled up further, skinny fingers digging into his tight, then his hips. By the time Alec had leveled himself with the roof it loomed over him.

Alec turned onto his back, trying to pull in his legs so they were in a position to kick, but the zombie was straddling him. It’s hands held Alec’s arms above his head. The thing grinned broadly, showing off its remaining, arbitrary placed teeth.

“Meat,” it growled. “Hungry. Eat.”

Alec’s arms broke free, giving him enough leverage to struggle up against the zombie and roll on top of it. The undead thing just grinned broader.

Months of killing these things had not made Alec a zombie expert. They were a contradiction, really. The zombie virus killed them slowly and yet they didn’t seem to die on their own. Their flesh was slowly rotting off their bones while the blood went stale in their veins. Their brains didn’t function, not properly, and so all they did was wander around numbly and without a sense of direction. Unless there was something living nearby, then they were all trying to eat it. Technically they should be weak, almost dead things. But, they weren’t.

With a sudden burst of energy Alec’s zombie pushed him off, and they began rolling around the roof, elbows smashing into sides and nails digging into skin. The undead was hell bent on wrestling Alec down. Then the roof decided it had enough of them.

Alec barely remembered the fall or of the zombie clinging to him like a monkey. When the they landed there was a _crack_ and he just hoped that it had not been any of his bones. Maybe it had been the zombie’s legs, crushed beneath the sheer weight of him.

He didn’t know. His head was ringing. The nerve endings of his back were on fire. The undead thing was a blur above him. Something sharp pierced his shoulders, cutting through jacket and t-shirt. Alec groped for something at his sides, anything that he could use as a weapon. His hand found something cold and hard.

The brick connected with the zombie’s face with another _crack_. It fell down beside Alec and he pulled himself into a sitting position. Then he threw up. He managed to stand up before doubling over again. For a minute or so he could breathe. Then Alec’s stomach was clenching, trying to heave up things that were never in it in the first place. He wanted to lay down again.

 _Come on,_ he heard his fathers voice, a memory from easier times. _I didn’t raise you to give up so easily, did I, Alexander? Move, son, goddamn it._

He did. There was a window ledge to his side, wide enough to stand on and high enough to help him climb up. He did. On the roof he doubled over again, bile rising in his throat. He forced himself to keep moving.

His quiver had somehow stayed undamaged during the fall. Sixteen arrows. A bow with a snapped string. Alec cursed.

Below him was the backyard where he’d left Jace and Isabelle, now still, littered with dead, unmoving bodies, and soaked in blood. Then everything sprung into motion, his vision blurring and his head spinning again. He gripped the nearest chimney for support. The stone was unbelievable soft under Alec’s hand so he looked. The chimney was smiling at him, rotten teeth falling out of it’s mouth as it did.

Alec opened his mouth to say something. Maybe to scream. It didn’t matter. Everything tasted bitter and coppery and he wasn’t sure if there was new bile rising in his throat or if it was just the remnants of earlier.

He ran.

Alec couldn’t hear his own footfall on the roof, much less the zombie’s, but he didn’t dare look back. It was a miracle he hadn’t stumbled over his own dazed feet yet. For a moment they were the only thing that felt real, the rhythm of them hitting the tiles, heavily, almost painfully. Concentrating on them stopped his head from spinning.

Ahead of them was a wall and a window. To the left another stretch of roof. Alec threw himself into the curve, ready to run a sharp left. Then the zombie threw itself into Alec. Glass exploded everywhere.

He heard the glass crunch underneath their combined weight. His head rang again and he could taste and feel the blood in his own mouth. The zombie took him by the collar and Alec blinked to clear the image. Something had sliced its face halfway off, taking one of its eyes with it. He punched it and missed. The undead thing threw him back down and his quiver slammed uncomfortable into his spine.

Dizzily Alec grasped for the only weapon he remembered he had, pulling one of his arrows out from behind his back. The tip sank into the zombie’s chest easily. The dying thing gurgled above him, once, twice, pierced lungs pushing up black blood until they collapsed and it went still.

Weak with relief and exhaustion Alec let himself fall back down, not caring about the dead zombie lying on him. He took in a mouthful of sour air and closed his eyes. When he opened them again black dots danced across his field of vision. He needed to do something against that, he decided and slowly crawled out from under the zombie. Every single one of his limbs felt light as a feather and yet he couldn’t drag himself up. Alec stumbled in an attempt, almost hitting his head on shelf that he swore hadn’t been there a few seconds ago. It didn’t matter. It was shelter.

He crawled up under it and closed his eyes, thankful for the opportunity of rest. There was something at the back of his mind, demanding his attention, but Alec ignored it. He could always come back to it after he had slept.

When he woke up he remembered that the something had been his siblings. Alec couldn’t have done more than feel remorseful even if he had tried. He felt dizzy and then he dry heaved again. He didn’t think there had been any time in which he felt as awful as he did now.

Alec didn’t know for how long he lay there. The sun set once, that he knew. Maybe it had set more times than that. Maybe it didn’t. He was cold and a part of him told him he was hungry. Then again he felt sick to his stomach so he probably wouldn’t be able to keep a single bite down. He wanted to die. Maybe he was dying. It was all the same to him as long as he could stop hurting.

For a while he thought Jace and Isabelle might find him. Then he remembered that he was in a random building with a random smashed window under a random shelf. Alec thought he cried but he wasn’t sure. Then he heard his fathers voice again, telling him to quit being weak. He was silent then, and resolved to keep his remaining strength for the zombies that would find him eventually.

When they did he wasn’t ready. His head had stopped spinning, but that was the only improvement of his situation. His muscles cramped and when they didn’t they ached. He had peed himself and he figured if he stayed there any longer he might have forget how to move. So, in a way it was best for things to finally end.

The footsteps were slow and soft on the hardwood floor and Alec almost missed them. He watched the patch of sunlight in his room, waiting. Then shadowy legs stepped into it, stopped, went over to the dead zombie.

Alec realized whoever had come into the room wasn’t a zombie after they made a disgusted but altogether human noise. There was a _thump_ from outside and then the legs returned to Alec’s field of vision. His heart was racing.

Had his siblings found him?

It was a foolish thing to think. As if the three of them were the only ones who had survived the apocalypse, just because they hadn't come across another human being in weeks.

The figure bent down to look at Alec and he tore his gaze away, squeezing his eyes shut. Maybe if he didn’t see them they wouldn’t see him.

The voice that spoke next was warm, hinting at amusement and concern all at once. It made Alec think of building blanket forts with his youngest brother Max. They would build the basic fort out of the comforters of their own rooms before raiding the guest rooms and sometimes Isabelle and Jace’s. Later the two middle Lightwood children would slip into the fort with them and they stayed up half the night telling stories or gossiping before falling asleep a tangle of limps and blankets. Alec wanted to curl up into the sound of it and forget the rest of the world.

“Well, this is a first. I didn’t have anyone try hiding in my cashmere pullovers yet.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a little over a week. I guess that's a good updating pace?  
> Anyway, writing these kind of chapters it always feels like they are going to be super boring to read, but I hope that's not the case and you enjoy this. Also this fic reached almost sixty hits, I got eleven kudos and a comment, and someone bookmarked it: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Really, this is more than I expected so, thank you.

“Are you alive down there?,” the man asked.

Alec grunted to the best of his ability. Even if the man was out to kill him everything was better than rotting underneath the shelf.

“Can you move? Can you come out?”

Grunting again Alec started to wriggle out of his hiding space. His back was crushed against the remains of his bow and quiver and he hissed in pain.

“Alright. Let’s find another way. Maybe if I-”

The man was cut off by Alec gritting his teeth together and squirming slowly out into the open. When the shelf gave way to sunlight he used the little momentum he had to roll out completely. Something dug into his stomach and he groaned. Aching and exhausted from the small action he let his head sink on the floor, the wood cool and comforting against his cheek.

Alec heard the man shuffle around him and then he came into view, first his long legs, followed by a lean torso, then his face, all sharp angles and tan skin, and lastly a crown of black hair, flopping down in a way that suggested it wasn’t cut to be worn this way. Intelligent eyes peered down at him, the face too shadowed for Alec to make out their color. The man smiled, teeth stark white.

_Friendly,_ a word shot through Alec’s pain befuddled brain.

_Alive_.

A new wave of energy shot through him and he struggled to push himself up.

“Whoa, there!” The man held him down with a gentle hand to his shoulder. “Let me help you.”

Alec felt the hand move down his back and tug at something. The man’s second hand came up to Alec’s neck searching for something with his fingers and then pulled it over Alec’s head. A small weight was lifted from his back and fell next to him with a _clonk._

“This should do,” the man said before hooking his arms under Alec’s armpits and pulling him up. He tried to help as best as he could but leaned heavily on the man. Slinging Alec’s arm across his shoulders, he asked: “Can you walk?”

Alec nodded weakly, not quite sure it was the truth.

It was. With the man to support himself he hobbled in the direction he was leading Alec, through a bedroom and into a living room. By the time Alec was lying on the couch he wanted to cry, not only because he was tired and his whole body felt like it stood in flames: The room around him was clean and modern, a spacious loft with a kitchen island and a flat screen on the wall, the pillows beneath Alec soft and pliant, the coffee table free of dust and grime. It was almost too ordinary and too before-the-apocalypse to bear.

The man was rummaging through the cabinets in the kitchen and Alec closed his eyes, pretending for a second that he was simply sick with the flu and had his mother fussing over him. He couldn’t. He reeked of blood, vomit, and decay, his skin weighed down with dirt and sweat. He didn’t just feel weak and exhausted, there was _pain,_ sharp and unyielding, his nerves aware of it again now that he had moved.

Alec opened his eyes as the cushions dipped with the added weight of the man. A glass of water was in the other hand, held two small white pills out to Alec. “Magnus,” the man said, before indicating the pills in his hand. “Pain killers.”

Alec squinted at Magnus’ hand before deciding that he could trust him. He nodded weakly and let Magnus put the pills in his hand, then summoned the rest of his strength to take them. Magnus helped him set the glass to his mouth and drink. For a second Alec felt like he was going to choke or vomit or possibly both. Squeezing his eyes shut he forced himself to swallow, flushing down the pain killers, and downing the whole glass. Magnus went to get another and this time it wasn’t as bad.

“What’s your name?,” he asked, parting Alec’s hair to put his hand against his forehead and take Alec’s temperature.

Alec cleared his throat, knowing he wouldn’t make it through more croaked out his one-syllable nickname, and ended in a coughing fit. Magnus got up to get him more water.

“It’s kind of dusty down there,” he said conversationally. “Not the ideal hiding place, especially not if you stay down there for what? A day? Two? When was the last time you _ate_?”

Alec shrugged, having lost track of time completely. There was a hole in his stomach, he knew, but it was too numb to estimate it’s size.

Magnus grimaced sadly when he sat down and handed the glass to Alec. He emptied that too despite Magnus attempts to take it from him. “Easy there, tiger. Let’s take things slow. Why don’t you rest a bit while I make us some soup or something?”

Alec closed his eyes, digging his shoulders deeper into the pillows. He listened to Magnus clank and clatter in the kitchen, trying to concentrate on anything but the numbing pain that was everywhere. Magnus voice had so far taken his mind off his newly woken up nerve endings, but Magnus was busy now, cooking and apparently humming along to a song in his head. Alec listened and drifted off. He imagined how Magnus had worn his hair before the apocalypse. Then his mind wandered to the TV and he wondered what Magnus had watched on it before the world went to shit. Had Magnus preferred shows or movies? What genre of entertainment did Magnus like? Then he wondered what Magnus laugh sounded like.

The next thing he remembered was Magnus hand combing softly through his hair and muttering his name. Alec blinked up bleary eyed at where the other crouched, a bowl of something steaming in his hand.

“Hey,” he said, thrusting the bowl at Alec. “Can you eat or do you want me to feed you?”

Alec stayed where he was. He might have been able to do it but he was not about to find out by spilling soup all over himself. Besides, Magnus seemed willing enough to feed him and Alec found he didn’t mind Magnus taking care of him. So, with Magnus’ hip settled against his side he ate.

The soup was warm, settling in Alec’s stomach like a rock grounding him back into reality. He could practically feel the energy coursing through him, waking up his tired limbs and wrapping them into a comfortable haze. By the time Magnus scraped the bowl for remains Alec felt drowsy and content. He had to fight to keep his eyes open during the second bowl.

After Magnus set it down on the coffee table beside them Alec tried to convince the muscles in his face into a smile. The skin on his bottom lip stretched tight and he gave up on the attempt, the same way he had given up on saying the thank you that was on his tongue out loud. He turned a little away from Magnus, pushing his face in the cushions of the couch. Magnus leaned over him and Alec thought he was saying something, but then he never caught it so he wasn’t sure.

When Alec woke next it took him a minute to figure out he was awake. Moonlight spilled in through the windows of Magnus’ loft, illuminating the darkness only marginally. Someone had put a blanket over him, Alec noticed, and the clothes he wore – certainly not his own anymore – weren’t pasted to his skin. It wasn’t like that was something to complain, although Alec felt a shiver over his bare arms as he sat up. He swung his legs over the edge of the couch, the hardwood cold against the soles of his feet.

Carefully he tested if he could take his own weight. He stood. His knees buckled and he fell down on the couch again with a soft ‘ _oof’._ He scooted to the foot of it and tried again, using the armrest of the couch as a crutch. It would never do.

Maybe if he crawled?

Then it hit him that he didn’t even know which door to crawl to, so he didn’t have any other choice but wake his host. It was embarrassing and Alec was glad for the dark that hid his temporary blush.

“Magnus?,” he whispered. His mouth was dry as saw dust and he had to clear his throat before trying again, louder, “Magnus? Magnus!”

Something rustled, just short of the window, and then there was a blinding flash followed by steady yellow light flooding through the room. Alec blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

Magnus was curled up awkwardly in an armchair, a blanket draped over him halfheartedly, and the arm that had reached out to light the lamp hanging over the side. He was squinting at over at Alec, getting used to being awake and the brightness at the same time. Then his eyes went wide and he jumped up.

“’S okay,” Alec mumbled. His lip cracked as he spoke, his voice rasping in his dry throat, but he got the words out. “Bathroom?”

Magnus shoulders relaxed as he trod over to Alec. He reached down as if to help Alec up but the later had already pushed himself off the couch to lean on Magnus lightly. Together they made their way across the room, Magnus waiting outside while Alec relieved himself behind a plain wooden door. When he came back Magnus was rummaging in the kitchen, only stopping to set down a steaming bowl of soup on the coffee table when Alec called him.

The trip to the bathroom had already exhausted Alec and he was glad when the soft cushions of the couch welcomed him back. Pulling the blanket tighter around him he reached out for the bowl and attacked the soup with a fervor. Magnus settled back in his armchair, amusement sparking in his eyes.

“So, ah,” he said. “I cleaned and patched you up while you were asleep. You’re lucky you didn’t break anything, you know. Just cuts and bruises, and none of those too severe either. Although there was a rather nasty one on your head, so I’m not sure what happened but my guess is you fell on it and might have a concussion. But I’m not doctor, so who knows.” He raised his hands in defense. “I would definitely recommend bed rest for a while longer and then.....wow, I have never seen anyone devour that gruesome canned stuff so fast.”

Alec had the decency to look sheepishly up at Magnus as he placed the bowl back on the table. Running a hand over his mouth he said: “Sorry. Usually I have better manners.”

At that Magnus laughed. “Is there usually someone to mind?”

Alec nodded eagerly. Then his vision started swimming and, thinking about what Magnus had said about the concussion, he lay back down. When he spoke he was glad he didn’t feel like throwing up. “Yeah,” he said, facing Magnus general direction without opening his eyes. “A sister and a brother.”

“Are they....?” Magnus let his question trail off, but Alec found the rest of it in Magnus’ fallen and doubtful face.

“Dead?,” he finished. “I hope not.”

He began playing with the corner of the pillow while Magnus searched for the right thing to say.

“So you don’t know? How come?”

“We were fighting zombies the last time I saw them. Then we got separated, I was chased, crashed your window, and almost died.” Alec gave him a small smile, hoping Magnus would understand that it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, that Jace and Isabelle weren’t completely helpless and had probably survived without him. There was a small voice at the back of his head, however, that asked whether he truly believed that himself.

Magnus returned the smile. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Alec nodded. They spend the rest of the night like that, Alec talking about what led to his encounter with Magnus first, then about fighting alongside his siblings in general, later about things they did before the apocalypse. He learned a little about Magnus too, mainly that he had been an orphan long before the end of the world, passed from one foster home to the next until he was eighteen, which was when he packed his bags and got his own place. Alec guessed it might have been this apartment because it seemed quite lived in yet Magnus no older than Alec himself, but Magnus never confirmed it in any way.

When they finally dozed off, Alec first, then Magnus, Alec had almost forgotten how awful he had felt twenty-four hours ago. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was really thrilled about posting the last chapter a week after the first and here I am taking two weeks for the next. Why is life so damn busy? On that note I also have to apologize in advance: I will not be able to post anything until Christmas. I'm really sorry, but I have a lot of tests and I need to study to get good grades and school is really time consuming :(  
> ANYWAY. Here is chapter 3. Enjoy!

Under Magnus’ care Alec recovered rapidly. The second day he managed to cover smaller distances by himself, slightly dizzy but walking never the less, by the fifth he was roaming the loft, helping and irritating Magnus equally. Alec didn’t ask what Magnus was doing for a living or why the apartment was in such a good shape while the rest of the world went to shit, but there was always something to do, and, after a small argument that Alec won by simply taking the not-so-heavy box and just carrying it where it was supposed to go, he was glad to do it.

In the short span of time the apartment had become a sort of home to Alec, a fact that surprised him greatly, seeing as he had ended up there involuntarily. He was lucky, he realized as he lay down to sleep on the fifth day. Lucky to end up in Magnus’s loft, lucky to be still alive when so many were dead, and lucky to have Jace and Isabelle. It was a privilege and he already knew what he needed to use it for.

Alec got up early the next morning to make breakfast, his daily duty since he had realized Magnus was not a morning person. While scrambling the eggs he lay out the words he would say so Magnus would let him leave. At first he thought he should ask permission, but Magnus had no right to detain him here. So, he asked for weapons.

“Knives? What for?,” Magnus answered, a small look of disappointment briefly flitting across his face.

“To kill zombies with,” Alec said conversationally. “I’m leaving.”

“Oh.”

He wondered if Magnus really hadn’t anticipated this. Sure, he had made Alec throw out all of his blood stained clothes except for the parka which Alec had crudely mended one afternoon, knowing Magnus would not be able to replace it. Yet, he didn’t think he had given any impression that he wanted to stay longer than he needed to get his bearings. Alec had never even considered that option, and yet he was sure Magnus would let him if he wanted to.

“Jace and Isabelle are still out there, so I need to find them. They are all the family I have left.”

Magnus nodded, his face considering. “But what if they’re not? Alexander, I really don’t want to insinuate anything, but you have to think about this. They could be dead for all you know and then you’d be running around out there, alone and-”

Alec had, in fact, thought a lot about the possibility that his siblings could have ended up like their parents or their youngest brother, dead with their bones licked clean by zombies. Or they could have been infected. It had never matter which scenario Alec’s brain chose for this train of thought, the solution had always been the same. “I’d still owe them to at least find out what happened to them. They are family and I’m responsible for them, Magnus. There is no other way.”

Magnus simply nodded. Then he disappeared in the bathroom to shower, leaving Alec to stare after him wistfully. He hated fighting with Magnus. It felt pointless, like repeatedly banging his head against the wall. Just that that was fighting with Jace and Isabelle. He could have cut his guts out and hurt himself less than when he fought with Magnus.

Alec’s host came back in time for breakfast with a smile as cold as a winter sun. Magnus chattered idly over having to take inventory of the boxes downstairs today, but neither was really interested in the conversation and it slowly faded into silence.

Alec was the one to break it. “Magnus...”

“It’s okay, Alexander. I knew you wouldn’t stay longer.”

His voice dropped at the end and he gaped like he wanted to say more but didn’t. _I just hoped you would,_ Alec added for himself. _I want to, I really do,_ he wanted to say but he knew it wouldn’t be fair. He couldn’t and wishing otherwise just hurt both of them.

Instead he said: “Thank you.”

Magnus smiled sadly and cleared their plates. Then he ushered Alec into the closet and grabbed seemingly random pieces of clothing before leaving him to change. Alec chose a dark sweater and a pair of black cargo pants that had inexplicably made it into Magnus’ wardrobe.

He took the opportunity to take a look in the mirror: Whatever magic Magnus had performed it had turned the cuts from the glass that crisscrossed his chest into pink lines, fading swiftly. Only two deeper gashes remained, one on over his collarbone which he thought would scar and one running down his upper arm, still bandaged. A yellow-greenish bruise bloomed out of the bandage and over his shoulder, corresponding with the ones covering his back and his hips. There were no bruises under his eyes though, which was where Alec had expected them.

A knock brought him out of his reverie and he pulled the sweater over his head hastily.

“Coming!,” he called.

Magnus gave him a once over when he came out, making Alec blush, before he nodded approvingly and thrust the parka at Alec. While he struggled into it Magnus went to retrieve his quiver and broken bow. Alec took them gratefully, slinging them over his back. A pang settled into his stomach at the thought that he was really leaving now.

More out of impulse than anything else he leaned in to kiss Magnus on the cheek.

“Thank you,” he said again.

“No problem,” Magnus replied softly. Alec thought he could see a faint blush cover the others cheeks.

Then Magnus turned abruptly, took a hooded coat from the hooks by the door and pulled it over. He strode outdoors confidently and Alec followed him.

“Are you planing on coming with me?,” Alec asked, catching up with Magnus at the foot of the stairs.

“Not exactly. Rather, you are coming with me.”

“Wait, what?”

For a second a wave of panic washed over Alec. Where was Magnus taking him? Why was he following Magnus to some unnamed location? What was Magnus planning to do to him?

Magnus didn’t seem bothered by Alec falling behind and kept walking, down the street and round a corner, talking all the while.

“Well, you don’t have any weapons and I don’t like the idea of sending you out there alone, especially with nothing to defend yourself except a few useless sticks of wood. So I decided it’s time to introduce you to the base.”

Alec simply raised his eyebrow, to confused to say anything even though Magnus couldn’t see his facial expression. Taking Alec’s silence the way it was meant he continued.

“See, the loft is just an outhouse. I mean, it was my place before the apocalypse, but it’s simply functioning as as such now. I’m just there a lot to keep an eye on things and to keep the emergency stocks up to date. Or did you think I made it through all of this alone?”

Alec shook his head. “I..I guess not. But...if you’re not there all the time how do you keep the zombies from ransacking the place?”

“Oh, I have my methods.”

In any other scenario Magnus would have turned and winked. But they lived in a post-apocalyptic desolation and so he kept going, across the street and up a fire-escape. Alec followed, eager to meet people that were alive and healthy.

“How many others are there?,” he asked.

Magnus stepped around a loose roof-tile before answering: “Eight.”

Alec almost fell off the roof. “Eight?!”

They clambered down the building, following a small, winding gap in the wall to a bricked shut backyard. Magnus determinedly shoved a dumpster to the side, revealing a set of stairs set into the ground.

“They are nice, I promise. They are....well, you could say they are _my_ family.”

He chuckled dryly before shouldering open a heavy metal door, Alec lagging behind a little.

The room beyond them was lit by a mix of ancient looking gas lamps and modern fluorescent lights. Set into the wall opposite them was a stained wooden door. Along the walls crates were stacked in arbitrary piles, littered with old newspaper and the one or other can of preserved food.

Magnus was looking around, clearly searching for someone. When he didn’t find whom he was looking for he crossed the room, throwing the door wide open.

A dark shape crashed into Alec as he made to follow Magnus, hurling him to the floor. He howled in pain as his bruised shoulder dug into the concrete. He heard Magnus scream something and then the trashing shape of a teenaged Latino kid was lifted off him.

“That’s enough,” a woman said in the voice of a mother, stern but full of affection.

The boy hissed at Alec as Magnus reached out to help him up. Alec let him.

A young woman with fair, blue-tipped hair held the kid firmly by the collar of his shirt. “Raphael, let it go. He is with Magnus.”

The boy spat but stopped struggling against her. She let him go and he stayed by her side, squinting menacingly at Alec.

By his side he could feel Magnus relax. “Catarina!,” he said, stepping forward and throwing his arms wide. The woman -Catarina- hugged him. “I’m sorry I’m too early, darling, but these are unpredictable times.”

“You do not say,” she said when they separated. Indicating Alec she asked: “What’s the meaning of this?”

Magnus ducked his head and played with the hem of his shirt. “His name is Alexander. He fell through my window and barely survived a zombie attack. No, don’t worry! He’s not infected, I made sure!”

Raphael had started to advance again but Catarina held an arm out.

“Are you sure we can trust him?” She sounded skeptical.

“Yes! I mean, these are desperate times, Cat. We _need_ more allies. And Alexander needs our help.”

Feeling like this might be the time to say something in his own defense Alec clarified: “I have a brother and sister. We got separated during the attack and I now I need to find them. Please.”

Catarina’s face softened but lost none of it’s authority. Alec concluded that Before she had been a teacher or a nurse. He could imagine her as either.

She turned to Raphael. “Go fetch Tessa.”

He grimaced and went, muttering curses under his breath in Spanish. After the door swung shut behind him Catarina held out her hand. Alec took it.

“Catarina Loss,” she said.

“Alec Lightwood.”

Her smile was warm and genuine when she said: “Nice to meet you, Alec.” She let go of him and, unsure what to do now, he stuffed his hands into his back pockets.

“Nice to meet you too,” he said.

Just like that the tension was broken. While Alec still hovered a little apart, Magnus was beaming at them, bouncing up and down like an over excited kid. “So how are the others?,” he asked.

“The same as always?,” Catarina replied. “Magnus, you weren’t even gone a week. _Nothing_ changed.”

Magnus sighed theatrically. “A lot can change in a week, darling.”

Catarina punched him lightly.

The door flew open and a young woman in a military style attire not so much strode as haughtily and purposefully moved the room past her until she was where she wanted to be. When she spoke her voice was softer than Alec would have thought. She addressed Magnus shortly, gave Alec a questioningly but not completely confused look, and diverted her attention to Catarina.

“What’s the matter? I was busy with preparations for the 5-6.”

“So that’s still on?,” Catarina asked.

“It’s not like anyone said otherwise,” Tessa replied, only mildly annoyed.

“Good,” Catarina said in a final tone, then, pointing at Alec: “You’re in charge of him, take him with you. He’s looking for some missing family.”

Whatever Tessa was about to reply Alec never found out because Catarina took Magnus by the elbow and dragged him away. He waved at them as they went, yelling “Good to see you, Tess!” before the door shut behind them.

Alec felt slightly nauseous. He offered his hand. “Alec Lightwood.”

“Tessa Gray,” she said, ignoring his hand. Spinning on her heels she set off the same way Catarina and Magnus had. “Come one. We’re already behind schedule.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I said I wouldn't be able to update until Christmas? I lied. Well, technically I didn't. It's stressful and awful but this weekend I only had to study for two tests, one of which is maths which I can't really study for and the other is PE which I give like .5 fucks about. That means that I had a lot of down time yesterday and wrote a chapter. A monster chapter for my standards, so I hope this is good. Enjoy!
> 
> (ALSO: Happy Holidays! I probably won't be updating until after Christmas. Maybe I'll have time to work on stuff in between and do it earlier but I doubt that. Maybe the 22nd. Maybe not. And if I should not make it anytime this year: Happy New Year!)

Tessa led him through a small corridor into what on the first glance looked like a locker room. On the benches by the wall sat a black haired man tying his boots. Across the room weaponry was arranged in an orderly fashion all over the wall and another man was busy slipping knives and daggers into various sheaths on his body.

When Tessa and Alec entered they both looked up wearing a confused expression, the one on the bench almost slipping into a scowl while the other seemed friendly.

“’the bloody hell is that?,” Scowl-face said.

“A boy, Will. A bit younger than us but surely you should have recognized that,” Friendly deadpanned.

Tessa chuckled and joined him, arming herself as if she’d been at it for the past minutes instead of escorting Alec. Will’s eyes were still fixed on her, one eyebrow raised in query. As if sensing it she turned around and sighed, plucked a blade from the wall and handed it to him.

Alec felt awkward and left out. He didn’t know any of these people and unlike earlier there was no Magnus to make him feel welcome. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his parka he tried to casually lean back on one leg but he gave up on the attempt when he almost toppled over.

“He’s coming with us?,” Friendly asked as if strangers joining them on 5-6s was a regular occurrence. Maybe it was. Alec still didn’t know what a 5-6 was.

“Cat said so,” Tessa replied. In two short sentences she explained Alec’s situation to them and then he could feel all three of them giving him a once over.

“Do you carry that bow to scare zombies or can you actually shoot it?,” Will asked, his tone challenging but not mean. He had a British accent, mixed with something Alec couldn't place.

“I could if it didn’t have a torn string.”

Tessa nodded as if she knew the pain of broken bowstrings. “We might have some. Jem?”

Without a pause he spun on his heels and disappeared through a back door.

“So,” Tessa said while they all waited for Jem to return. “You’re an archer. What about blades? Sword or knife?”

“Okay with both,” Alec replied. His father had insisted on a rigorous training for all his children, so he was okay with most weapons. Never as good as Jace and Isabelle with anything but arrows but he was okay.

Will nodded approvingly and if it hadn’t been for his coloration it could have been Jace standing there. “Take what you need,” he said, spreading his arms wide. Alec couldn’t help but smile.

After that the ice was broken. Alec took a closer look at the assortment while Tessa rummaged in a box next to him.

“Hip or thigh?”

He shrugged and she tossed him both. Alec had never been one to wear weapon belts a lot, often carrying not more than a couple of knives stuck into his boots or a thigh sheath, knowing that if he was in need Jace was there to back him up. Seeing as that had been the main reason for his miserable situation he now took the proper amount of blades, and did so gladly.

The back door banged open, revealing a triumphant Jem holding out a new pack of bowstrings for everyone to see. Alec unhooked his bow, cleaned it of the remnants, and tied the new string to it. He tested it, then redid it and tested it again. It took him a while to get it as tight as he wanted it to be. Taking a few steps back he took out an arrow, aimed for the knot hole that was visible between two daggers, and shot.

Will whistled and clapped him on the shoulder. “So you _did_ tell the truth.”

“Usually do,” Alec replied dryly as he retrieved the arrow.

Jem and Tessa looked equally impressed, then burst into laughter.

“Okay. We really need to leave now,” Tessa said, dragging Will out of the room. “Like really, _really_ need to leave.”

Jem grabbed a pair of arm gauntlets and handed them to Alec before ripping the door open again. Alec slipped them on and followed the rest out of the room.

“You do realize that after I find my siblings I’ll leave you guys?”

Even though walking backward Jem held his gaze. When Alec had caught up with him he turned and shrugged. “Probably gonna need them more than we do then.”

In front of them Tessa held a door open. To Alec’s confusion they didn’t exit the house the way he had entered: They left the corridor on the other end, went up a staircase and then through several other hallways and abandoned rooms into a lobby and to the unmistakable front door.

“Was this a hotel once?,” he asked Jem, looking around in fascination. The other nodded. Outside a vandalized sign proclaimed it as the _Hotel Dumort_.

“Hasn’t been in use for several years,” Jem explained. “Local kids used to hang out here Before so it was zombie infested before the big wave but once we cleaned them out it was perfect. Lots of storage, beds, lots of space, and emergency generators. Electricity and running water, what could you want more?”

 _My family,_ Alec thought but didn’t say it out loud. For Jem the people in the _Dumort_ probably were family anyway. Instead he nodded and kept pace.

Before a long uncomfortable silence could ensue he continued: “So, what is a 5-6?”

“Routine patrol of Sectors 5 and 6. We split Alicante into sectors to make it easier to keep track of activity. There’s fifteen sectors so usually we do every one at least once in two weeks.”

A spark of hope fluttered in Alec’s chest. “So unless my siblings move too much we should come across them in the next fourteen days?”

“Since we’re now apparently actively looking for other survivors I reckon we should.”

Alec nodded vigorously. He’d prefer knowing what happened to Jace and Isabelle right this moment but at least now he had a plan and something to look forward to. Two weeks if everything went right. Maybe sooner.

In better spirits he followed Tessa and Will through the winding streets of Alicante, first along the wide, main roads that flowed through the city along its river and canals and then alleys that became constantly narrower the further away from society they seemed to get.

When he moved here as a kid Alec had fallen in love with the way the infrastructure of Alicante stretched across the city like spidery veins and gave it life. He’d been born in New York, a city made of straight lines and right angles, planned and executed with logic and geometry. Alicante was small in comparison but to his seven year old self it was a far bigger and more welcoming world to explore. He didn’t like change but for some reason coming to Alicante had never felt like change and more like coming home, even when he was seventeen and finally realized that they hadn’t moved to the other end of the world just because of their dad’s new job.

Alec could remember running along the slippery pavement of Alicante River and its many canals with his siblings, only turning to go home when the silver streetlights reflected on the water. Alicante was an old city, made before clockwork and curfews, and losing track of time was easy. He did so now as they meticulously combed the city, taking inventory of everything that the apocalypse had left behind.

Sector 5 was full of houses where families much like Alec’s had lived before they turned into undead monsters or were eaten. A few lucky might have escaped. Over the past few weeks Alec had become good at not thinking too much about it. It did not do to dwell on the dead.

The sun wandered stubbornly through the sky, turning the stones into gold and honey streaked with red tiles. Even the less inviting sites like wooden barricades and lonesome bones didn't seem too bad in the daylight. The thing about zombies was that they weren’t everywhere. One had to be always careful of not running into some when turning a corner but usually they bunched together and left the streets eerily deserted. In the three odd hours they spend in Sector 5 they never saw another living being.

The first part of the patrol passed in companionable quiet. Now and then Will or Tessa would pass around a bottle of water and they would stop to drink. Conversations were limited to pointing out things of interest that had caught someone’s eye or to give instructions. At some point they climbed the eaves of a small building and started observing from above. The most exciting thing that happened was Jem pointing out that they had now entered Sector 6.

Alec was just about to sigh with contempt about how boring it all seemed when someone screamed. It was a faint sound coming from a good ten alleys over. He was the first one to break into a run, secretly cursing himself for complaining about boredom. Boredom was good. Boredom was safe. Someone screaming meant trouble.

Towards the screams the streets grew wider and jumping over them became almost impossible. Alec braked hard when they reached one they couldn’t cross, barely stopping himself from falling over and smashing face first into cobble stones. Someone bumped into him but he was too busy regaining his breath and observing the scene before them to mind. Then Will and Tessa were next to him.

Will’s eyes grew wide. “Shit.”

 _Shit_ , was an incredibly fitting description for what was happening on the street below: At first all Alec could make out were zombies in varying states of decay, their balding heads bobbing around as they scuffled toward the center of the street, arms raised and reaching. They were growling and hissing in low, feral tones, sending shivers down Alec’s spine but none of them as bad as the human shriek that had brought him here. He spotted the survivors only after the woman screamed again, not so much in agony as in desperation. There were two of them, buried in a sea of undead monsters, outnumbered by hundreds.

Without thinking twice Alec jumped. The first zombie didn’t even see him coming to slice its head off. Neither did the second and the third. Out of the corner of his eye he saw another fall, revealing a smirking Will behind it. He gave Alec a nod and continued hacking his way towards the center of the mob. Alec turned around again, freeing a second blade, and did likewise.

He didn’t count the number of zombies he had to put out of their misery to reach the couple in their midst, just knew that it probably were more than he’d slain over the past weeks combined. Then he kneed one of them in the back and came face to face with the people he wanted to rescue. A woman and a man stood back to back, her wielding the remnants of what might have passed as a broadsword once, him holding a slim, dagger-like sword with both hands, both of them too overwhelmed by their enemy to do much damage. When the woman saw Alec she stared.

Alec bend to decapitate the zombie beneath him, then threw a knife past the woman and hit the one looming behind her square in the chest. Without looking she thrust her elbow into its sternum and it toppled over. In that time he got up, while ripping the one behind him open.

The woman was still staring at him as he threw himself onto the next zombie. When he was facing her again she smiled, her eyes glistening. Her lips were moving but with the deafening roar of the battle around them he wasn’t sure of what she said. It might have been _Robert_ just that his fathers name on a strangers tongue made no sense.

Alec heard Tessa yell that they needed to get out of here. He continued clearing the space around the couple, waiting for her to come up with a plan.

Something warm and wet splashed his neck and he made short notice of his current combatant to see if the woman was alright. She was alive and on her knees, sticking her broken sword into the zombie corpse in front of her again and again, screaming like a child throwing a tantrum. A puddle of clotted blood was collecting around them, soaking her pants and turning her already red hair a few shades darker.

Alec bend down, putting a hand to her shoulder to calm her, and she pushed him away, shrieking loudly. When she saw it was him her eyes went wide. Gray hands wrapped around her from behind, more and more clamping her mouth shut and dragging her into the crowd. Alec yelled, trying to go after her but something grabbed him too.

He tried to wriggle out of the zombie’s grasp to no avail. Stabbing behind him blindly only seemed to enrage it so he had turned to kill it. The thing went down only for another to take its place. Alec tossed and turned to keep the undead from getting to him. He saw Will in a momentary bubble of quiet and shouted, pointing into a direction that hopefully was the one the woman had disappeared to.

Getting lost in the mob of undead was easy and soon Alec had no idea where left and right was. He was all action, no time for thought, barely aware of a knife left here and a dagger stuck there. The world was a blur of dead flesh, old blood, bones, and flashing metal. The nerves in his body were unified by one goal: _Don’t die._

A hand grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back. Alec stumbled, ready to attack whatever had dragged him there but it was only Tessa, already whirling around to jump onto another zombie. He relaxed for a second and looked around. Tessa and Jem had cleared some space around the man, spinning around him like a colossal force of nature that turned every undead nearby into zombie flakes. The man on the other hand didn’t seem to notice. He sat on the ground next to Alec, his sword nowhere in sight, a bleeding cut on his cheek barely visible against his brown skin and a rather unsanitary seeming dagger lodged into his shoulder, leaking dirty blood onto the man’s tattered shirt but all he did was stare off to where the woman had been.

“Jocelyn,” he muttered.

Alec got up to join Tessa and Jem in shielding the guy. Their protective circle didn’t last long though. After the crowd had gotten hold of the woman the zombie’s focus had shifted and now they were streaming past them and the man as if she was the only prey worth chasing. At the moment Alec wasn’t about to complain the lack of things that wanted to kill him.

Soon there were only a few zombies left, too busy trying to eat them to notice the shift. Alec dropped back into the circle where the man sat. Sheathing his knife he bent down to administer the best version of first aid he could think of right then.

“I’m Alec,” he said. “I’m gonna pull that dagger out now, okay?”

The man just looked past him. “Jocelyn.”

It occurred to Alec that he probably meant the woman. “Will is going after her.”

He wanted to add an _everything is going to be okay_ but it didn’t seem fair. Alec didn’t know it would be and getting the man’s hopes up for nothing was only cruel. Instead he sent a silent prayer to a god he didn’t believe in that Will would succeed. Then he pulled the dagger.

The man’s muttered _Jocelyn_ turned into a scream.

Blood gushed out of the wound and Alec felt panic rise in his throat. He fumbled with his parka, then remembered the quiver strapped over his chest that kept him from taking it off. Jem risked a glance over his shoulder to see if everything was alright and Alec caught his eyes, pleading. The other jerked his head in the direction the zombies were disappearing to before headbutting the zombie he had held off during the exchange. Alec looked.

Will was stumbling towards them, the zombies rushing past him unperturbed by his presence.

“Jocelyn!,” the man screamed and struggled up and forward. Alec barely caught him by the waist, the man straining against him.

Will was alone.

“Jocelyn!”

Jem rushed toward Will, patting him down for injuries. He said something and Will shook his head. Together they made their way back.

“Jocelyn!”

“I’m sorry there was nothing I could do, pal.”

The man got louder, his strain against Alec more and more frantic. “JOCELYN!”

They crashed to the floor, the man still struggling, now against both Alec and the floor. “She’s gone, okay? She’s _gone._ ”

“JOCELYN!”

“Will, your jacket.”

“JOCELYN!”

“I’ve got him, I’ve got him.”

“JOCELYN!”

“Keep pressure on the wound, Alec.”

“JOCELYN!”

“God fucking damn it.”

“Jocelyn!,” the man screamed again, his struggling becoming feebler. “Jocelyn!”

Tessa threw a knife, bringing down the last zombie straggler, and all they were left was dead silence. She looked back, assessing the situation. Alec looked up at her apologizing as the man rocked in his arms, still weeping the woman’s name.

“How are we doing, Jem?”

“Well, none of us are dead, so that’s something.” He pointed at the man. “We should probably get him back fast though. That shoulder doesn’t look good at all.”

Alec nodded, trying to get his arms hooked under the man's without loosening the pressure on the wound. The guy immediately fell back onto his knees and out of Alec’s grasp. Leaning forward on his hands, his forehead pressed against the dusty ground he almost looked like he was praying. Recovering out of his stupor Alec bend down, trying to stop the bleeding and helping the man to his feet again at the same time. The man was mumbling, fast and incomprehensibly, stumbling over his own words in a hurry that left him no time to breathe. Just as Alec thought he must lose consciousness if he went on the guy stopped and took a deep breath.

He relaxed under Alec’s touch then, and let himself be helped up. The man’s eyes fluttered, leaving Alec to hope he wouldn’t have to carry him for the rest of the way. His hopes were crushed when the man sacked against him three steps later, making Alec stagger both with his weight and a last sighed word that almost sounded like a dying breath: “Clary.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very, incredibly sorry for taking this long with this chapter. Holidays have been very stressful and I also had a reading goal to reach before New Year's. But it's done now. I hope you enjoy it.

The _Hotel_ _Dumort_ was a five story building struggling with decay and vandalism which was why only the ground floor and the cellar were still accessible. In the weeks following the apocalypse the group of survivors around Magnus had turned it into their home. The downstairs rooms were converted into weaponry, living room, storage spaces, and gym, while the upstairs rooms were left as they were, grand dining room, kitchen, and bedrooms.

It was one of those bedrooms that Alec followed Jem to, still balancing the bleeding and unconscious man on his shoulders. The bed creaked softly as Alec laid him down. Behind him Catarina and a guy Alec hadn’t seen before came into the room, the former gasping audibly while the guy just gave a disapproving grunt. Someone else poked Alec in the side and he turned.

“Oh god, you’re bleeding!,” Magnus said, a smile vanishing from his face.

Alec looked at his shoulder where is parka was black and slick with blood. “No, no, I’m fine.” He zipped the jacket open and shrugged it off partly. “See? It’s his.”

Magnus followed his gaze to the bed. Catarina was already bent over the unconscious figure in it, examining the guy’s shoulder, while the man she’d brought with her was struggling with the guy’s dirt caked boots. He had rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing vibrant green tattoos snaking up his arms like vines.

“That’s good,” Magnus said, his smile returning. “I mean, it’s terrible what happened to him but I’m glad you’re okay.”

Alec returned the smile.

“Hey!,” Tattoo called over. “Help or leave, your choice.”

Magnus grimaced and shuffled over. “Yessir!”

Chuckling Alec left them. He found a sink hidden in a corner of the weaponry, where he stowed his weapons and cleaned parka, then made for the living room.

The little room was stuffed with furniture, sofas, armchairs, and ottomans were almost stacked on top of each other in a loose circle, all facing the small coffee table in its middle. The table itself was littered with mugs and papers, the later of which turned into maps as Alec drew closer.

“Just sit down somewhere. We’ll have dinner when Cat’s done patching that poor sucker up,” Will said from where he was curled up on one of the sofa’s with Tessa.

“Or when William here moves his ass into the kitchen because he’s on duty today,” Tessa said as Alec angled himself into an armchair across from them. There was no malice in her voice though. Instead she was smiling, tapping her fingers on Will’s chest in a rhythm that was solely in her head. Will’s fingers were absently playing with a loose strand of hair by her neck in return.

Alec wondered if they were dating, then if dating was something you still did during the apocalypse.

“I’m pretty sure it’s your turn today. You and Jem,” Will answered.

Tessa buried her head further in his chest. “Nah. You and Ragnor.”

“As long as it’s not Raphael,” Will sighed and kissed her hair. He launched into a story of how Raphael and someone named Lily had once blown up the kitchen while they were trying to make popcorn. Since Alec didn’t know who he was talking about he simply closed his eyes, listening to Will’s voice as if it was music, and relaxed. He heard footsteps approach but didn’t bother to look, knowing it could only be someone from the Dumort bunch. It was a kind of security Alec hadn’t had in a long time and he wished he could share it Jace and Isabelle.

Across from him Tessa shrieked so he popped one eye open. Jem had thrown himself onto her and Will, effectively pinning them both to the couch.

“No!,” Tessa wailed while Will initiated a counter attack.

Soon Jem was a giggling and wriggling mess, ineffectively curled up to protect himself from Will’s merciless tickling. Tessa was laughing loudly and Alec found himself smiling at them fondly.

“That’s what you get,” Will said, while Jem was sitting up on his lap.

“Tut, tut,” Jem answered. He yawned, head lolling against Will’s shoulder. “I’m hungry. You’re on kitchen duty today.”

“He is, but so is Ragnor and he is still upstairs with Catarina, saving that guy’s life,” a voice behind Alec said. Startled he turned around to where Raphael was propped up on the back of Alec’s armchair.

Will shrugged as if the hunger problem didn’t apply to him. “Looks like we’re gonna die of starvation after all.”

Tessa punched him lightly. “Or you just make dinner on your own.”

Will seemed to weighthe options, then pushed Jem onto Tessa. With a kiss on the cheek for both of them he left. “Just don’t blame me when we have to find a new place to live because this one burned down.”

Jem and Tessa rolled their eyes in unison. Alec scrambled up and after Will.

“Wait. I can...I could help you if you wanted?”

Will cocked an eyebrow and gave Alec the most judgmental stare he ever encountered. Then he shrugged. “Sure, Lexi.”

Alec grumbled in protest, to tired to say anything against it, and followed Will upstairs.

The kitchen was more of a kitchenette, the room not exactly small but made smaller by double use as storage. Cardboard boxes were stacked to the ceiling, leaving only a small space of counter top around the stove-oven combination. Pots and pans were all over the place, causing stressful searches for them before they could be used. The fridge was industry sized, made of once polished metal, and towered over the girl that had halfway crawled into it.

“Shoo, you!,” Will called and she turned around. “We’re making dinner, so go set the plates or something and stop eating!”

The girl smiled sweetly, but the way she held herself, cocked head and hips, told Alec that behind it were sharp teeth. Brushing back blue-black strands of hair she let out a long dramatic sigh, then fixed her gaze on Alec. “Fine. Who’s that?”

“Alec,” Will answered, before Alec could say anything. “He’ll be staying with us, so be nice.”

The girl made a throw-away gesture with her hand, then strode out of the kitchen. On her way out she knocked her shoulder against Alec’s, causing him to look after her. She winked.

“Wha-”

“That’s Lily. Don’t worry about her. She’s relatively harmless.”

Alec had half a mind to ask what relatively meant in this context. Instead: “So, what’s for dinner?”

“This,” Will said, holding up a can with an illegible label. “I think it’s some kind of pasta, but it doesn’t matter. It’s all the same shit anyway.”

Alec wondered how much food the Dumort people had collected exactly. His siblings and him had been moving through the city for weeks, taking what they needed when they did, but with so many people and a safe haven piling up necessities made the most sense. It left Alec to ponder if he could have had this all along. If they could have settled down too. If they had would Isabelle and Jace still be with him?

The question only reminded him of the reality beyond the walls of the Dumort, so he made himself concentrate on dinner.

They worked in silence; Will heating up two cans of brown mushy stuff that could have been tomato sauce to the yellow-ish bits that could have been noodles once, before they were stuffed into a metal cylinder with so many preservatives that they would outlast every occupant of the Dumort at the current death rate. Alec took care of the little fresh food they had left: tomatoes and mozzarella cheese, a lonely head of lettuce, and some bread dough whose expiration date had passed unnoticed but looked like it was still good to eat.

The noise level rose suddenly, as people began to fill the dinning room with laughter and the clanking of plates. It reminded Alec of home. He could almost imagine standing next to his mother in the kitchen. Beyond the door his family would assemble around the table, his father at the head, managing to look disapproving and fond at his children. Jace would be to his right, listening intently to some story of Max’s. Isabelle would be across her youngest brother, either watching the boys in front of her or busily texting someone.

The illusion shattered in front of his eyes when Raphael entered the kitchen with a snappy remark, grabbed a handful forks, and helped them carry dinner to the table.

The tablecloth that covered the crude assembly of tables had seen better days, yet the 20's style made it look posh anyway. Magnus sat next to Catarina and across from Ragnor, in deep conversation with them both, but when Alec claimed the chair on the other side he turned and grinned.

“Thank god you’re here, these two will not leave me alone about-”

“Now, that’s not true,” Catarina interrupted him. “You know that-”

“Can someone pass me the bread please,” Tessa yelled from the head of the table. Catarina looked at her queerly and handed the basket to the white haired man next to Ragnor who handed it further to Tessa. Alec hadn’t met the ninth occupant of the Dumort before and somehow ended up staring. The man’s eyes were so blue they looked purple, kind and innocent. He caught Alec looking and returned it with a frightfully happy smile.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said and it took Alec a second to realize he was talking about the previous conversation. “I’d me more interested in how you ended up in Magnus’ company.”

“He fell through my window, Malcolm,” Magnus answered. Alec just wished he could speak for himself once. “I think we heard enough about that already.”

It didn’t seem to be for Malcolm but Alec tuned the conversation out. On the other side of the table Jem and Tessa told Catarina what had happened with their John Doe while Will made unnecessary amendments to the story. Catarina’s face became more and more incredulous.

“No way you’re going out there again!,” Catarina exclaimed when they were done.

Alec almost spit his food out again. All around him conversations died down as he forced himself to swallow.

“What?”

Catarina’s eyes were soft and pleading. “I’m sorry, Alec, but I think we should stay here for a while. We’ve never encountered so many zombies at once. Something is going on and we don’t know what yet. I say we stay here, stay safe.”

Her words were like a punch in the gut. Alec turned to Magnus, hoping for some support, but his friends expression was carefully blank.

“I think this is an issue we vote on,” Magnus said at last.

Catarina nodded. “You know my position.”

To Alec's surprise Raphael spoke up, his face serious. “I say we stay put. We have everything we need and the zombie’s won’t bother us here. I think it’s in everyone’s interest if we sit this one out.”

“I’m with Raphael,” Lily said.

“Me too.” Ragnor.

“But how are we going to find out what’s going on if we don’t go outside?,” Malcolm asked.

“Malcolm’s right,” Will said. “There’s- I say we keep patrolling, find out what's happening.”

Four against two. Alec looked to Magnus, who was toying with the tablecloth. Jem was studying the statue that was Will and Tessa seemed to think her answer was to be found in the expectant faces of the others. Then she abruptly ducked her head, threw a fugitive glance at her boys, and cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry. I think Raphael's right. We got almost killed out there today and I don’t want to lose any of you. I’m sorry.”

Alec registered her words dimly. He thought about the fight earlier today, just that now the zombies wore Jace and Isabelle’s faces. There had to be another option.

“I guess my vote doesn’t count?”

The evasive looks on the others faces were all the answer he needed. He suppressed the urge to leave the table and stuffed his fork into his mouth to stop from yelling.

They finished eating in an awkward silence, no one really hungry anymore.

“I guess you’ll want to go to your room?,” Magnus asked afterward. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Alec followed him, though being away from the others did nothing to sooth the raging anger inside him. They had taken his chance to find his siblings from him, and Alec resented them for that. They had no right.

“Hey,” Magnus said as they crossed the lobby to where the rooms were. He grabbed for Alec’s arm and Alec felt a sudden bout of hatred against him too. After all Magnus had left him alone in there. “I would have said yes if it had made any difference.”

Alec blinked, the hatred gone as fast as it had come.

“I know how much Jace and Isabelle mean to you, Alec. I’m sorry they have to wait now.”

Alec suddenly felt tired. He leaned against the wall at the mound of the hallway. “I know.”

A part of him wanted Magnus to hug him, to curl up against Magnus and let someone else carry the weight of his body for a while. Magnus smiled warmly, running affectionate fingers along Alec’s cheek. He took Alec’s hand.

“Come on. The beds are actually really comfortable.”

Heat crept up Alec’s spine but he didn’t try to hide the red color of his cheeks. It was just Magnus. Just him and Magnus.

They stopped in front of a dark wooden door without a number that had seen better days. Alec turned to look at Magnus, still holding his hand. He found himself not wanting to let go. In the end he couldn't remember who kissed whom.

In his nineteen years Alec had never kissed anyone, something he now regretted. Magnus’ lips were soft and pliant under his, even though Magnus was pressing against him like his life depended on it. He grabbed Magnus by the neck and drew him closer. Someone’s knee knocked against someone else’s. Magnus’ arms slipped around Alec’s waist, aligning their bodies. Alec thought he might break over the pull in his gut. It wasn’t a frightening thought. He would probably enjoy breaking.

Somehow Alec managed to open his door and stumble through without Magnus. Now separate both of them were breathing hard.

“A small, selfish part of me is glad you’re going to stay a while longer,” Magnus said, his hands clinging to the door frame.

Alec leaned forward, ghosting his lips over Magnus’. “Good night, Magnus.”

His eyes were wide and like molten gold up close. Alec closed the door before either of them could do something stupid.

The adjoining bathroom had running water, so Alec took a quick shower, both to calm down and because he really, really needed one. Afterward he considered picking up his clothes and putting them in a neat pile. The idea lasted for a second before he let himself fall onto the bed, comforter and pillow smooth under his skin. He crawled under the blanket, the events of the day creating havoc in his head. More than once he touched his lips where Magnus’ had been not long ago. He smiled and immediately felt guilty.

Groaning he rolled over, burying his head in the pillow. There had to be another option.

_I guess my vote doesn’t count?_

“I’m sorry, Magnus,” he muttered into the fabric. Then he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, got dressed, and left.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided notes will be at the end from now on because that way they are easier to skip and can contain spoilers.

At night the _Hotel Dumort_ was a dead and eerie thing. Moonlight spilled through the grand entrance of the lobby, making it an endless chess board of silver and black. Whereas he could have expected anyone rounding a corner during the day Alec now felt like the only thing he could run into where ghosts; and the _Dumort_ ’s silent hallways seemed to confirm it. He was relieved when he finally reached the weaponry.

The parka hung where he had left it, bringing comfort even though it was cold. Alec slung his bow and arrows over his shoulder and left his hand hover over the assembly of blades.

“You can take some, we’ve got enough.”

He whirled around to find Jem sitting on one of the benches, arms crossed over his chest. There was something challenging in his eyes. Alec finally recognized the knot in his guts that even the familiar weight of his quiver between his shoulder blades couldn’t undo for what it was: guilt.

He swallowed. He opened his mouth to say something. He closed it and swallowed again.

“You’re leaving,” Jem said. There was no accusation in his voice. “Not so surprising, really.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alec hadn’t meant to sound indignant.

Jem shrugged. “You’re not one of us, the vote doesn’t apply to you. And even if it did you wouldn’t care. You’re the type of person who will always put family first. Yours is in danger, so you’re screwing the rules. Would you pass me that rope?”

Alec handed it to him and he stuffed it into a backpack. “Your point?”

“My point.” Jem made it sound complicated. The corners of his mouth were upturned in a warm and genuine smile. It startled Alec when Jem's hands were suddenly on his thigh, fastening a sheath. He experimentally balanced a knife in his hands before slipping it into his own sheath. “My point is that you’re not a wild card, Alec. Which gives one a lot of time to prevent you from doing things one doesn't agree with.”

To Alec it made more and less sense at the same time. “I’m not one of you, why do you care whether I leave?”

Jem hummed while fitting them both out with weapons. “The thing is: you don’t survive by being selfish. You help and protect other people and they help and protect you in return. That’s why we took you in, why we followed you when you ran to fight a hundred zombies, why Will followed that woman even though chances were she was lost. So, yeah, you’re not one of us yet, but we are responsible for you. And that means not letting you be out there on your own.”

“You’re coming with me.”

It wasn’t a question but Jem answered it anyway as he swung the backpack on his back. “Hell yes.”

He strode confidently outside and Alec followed him, still trying to wrap his mind around the new situation. They walked in silence, Jem leading purposefully while Alec couldn’t tell the buildings on his right from those on his left. It wasn’t until they stood in the entry way of an apartment building that Alec guessed Jem’s plan.

“Won’t they be able to find us here in the morning?”

“First they have to find us missing.”

Alec nodded, setting his quiver down by the armchair. Magnus’ loft looked desolate and cold without him in it; it made Alec feel like an intruder and less like the welcomed guest he’d been this morning. Using his parka as a blanket he curled up under the soft light of the lamp. He wanted to say something, but Jem had already turned his back on him, so he tried to sleep too.

***

In the morning it was the rising sun that woke Alec. Glittering light streamed through the windows, painting the room pink. He thought Magnus would have liked it, then remembered Magnus was at the _Dumort_ while Alec had left and come back here. Shaking Jem softly he went to make breakfast.

The boy grimaced down into his coffee.

“When do you guys usually get up?,” Alec asked.

“Not this early,” Jem replied, taking a sip out of his cup.

“Good. Then let’s eat and get out of here.”

Jem shot him an irritated look. “You in a hurry or something?”

“I want to find my siblings.” The truth was closer to _I want to stop feeling guilty about Magnus._ Jem bought his half-lie with a shrug. Alec dished the pancakes and they fell back into silence. Although he was sitting right next to him Alec felt like Jem was miles away; like the enormity of leaving everyone behind like this had forced them both to drift off on their own, lonely sheets of ice.

“Are you sure you want to do this?,” Alec finally asked. “I mean, Will and Tessa-”

“-gonna be fine without me.” This struck Alec as a bitter thing to say, but there was no bitterness in Jem’s voice. It just seemed to be a fact about their relationship that two was as good as three and they had simply chosen to be three.

The only reason Alec finished his breakfast was because food was too scarce to waste it. In the bathroom he quickly accessed the gash on his upper arm, found an antiseptic and bandaged it again.

Jem looked up from the book he had picked up somewhere around the house when he heard the door shut behind Alec.

“Let’s go.”

Abandoning the book for the backpack he got up. They left the loft the way Alec had first entered it. Thinking about it made him a little bit nauseous; to the side a dead zombie body was rotting, the stink wafting up to where they stood on the roof, and further down another lay crumpled. Alec lead the way across the roof, turning away from where the single zombie was that had toppled down the roof with him.

The backyard looked even worse than Alec remembered. More than a dozen bodies littered the ground, the blades that had pierced their chests still sprouting from them and severed heads gazed sightless up into the sun. Alec wanted to never see this place again. _Think positive,_ he tried to tell himself, _if they’re not there it means they’re not dead._ He jumped down the roof before he could follow his instincts.

Together they went through, turning every body. Each of them formed a new lump in Alec’s throat, until he thought he might suffocate under the sheer weight of it all.

“None of them are human,” Jem said finally, having left Alec’s side to take a look at the corpses on the other side of the yard.

Alec made himself take a deep breath.

“That’s good. I mean, they’re not here, so they were alive enough to make it somewhere else,” Jem rambled on.

“Not helping,” Alec informed him. The building the zombies had come out of was a one-story manufacturing plant. He climbed it. On the far side of the roof the air was unpolluted. With the fresh air finally came some relief.

“There’s no other way out of the backyard than climbing buildings,” Jem said, studying the crime scene with a detached interest that Alec could never have. “Which means that they couldn’t have been too injured or they wouldn’t have made it.”

“Alright. But if they were injured they probably barricaded themselves somewhere close to here. So we should scout the area, see if we can find any clues.”

“Spiral outward from here.”

They did, only speaking to point something out to the other. They climbed up and down roofs, checking something out here and there, but the closest they got to anything remotely living was a lonely zombie that wobbled along the street with some kind of purpose. If Alec hadn’t known better he would have called it a patrol.

They steered clear of the area where the zombie had been, the loft and the _Dumort_. This narrowed their possibilities down, but didn’t improve their chances. With the sun burning down on their backs and an almost empty water bottle Alec gave up. Sitting down on a ledge he sighed.

Jem sat down next to him. “Is there anywhere else they could be? They’re your siblings, you know them best. Let’s say they are not badly injured, just lost you. Where would they go?”

“Home,” Alec said, mostly because that’s where he wanted to go. He wanted to go home, lie down on his own bed, pull his own comforter over his head, and never see the world again.

Jem took him serious. “Then let’s see if they’re waiting for you there.”

Alec let him pull him up and climbed down. The streets weren’t safe anymore, but he had stopped caring sometime this noon. He might even welcome a fight, since that at least meant something to do. Something that brought direct results.

They had no such luck. By the time the canal house came into view the world had become deafeningly quiet and desolate, not even a breeze to rustle the leaves of the shrubbery. Even though Jem was right beside him Alec felt like the last person on earth.

He felt under the doormat that spelled a bright _WELCOME_ for the key. “Someone was here. The key’s gone.”

Jem braced his foot on the door. “That’s a good sign, right?”

Alec shrugged and stepped out of the way. The door gave in with a heartbreaking _crunch_. Jem pulled his foot free and pushed the door open. “After you.”

Pulling an arrow from his quiver he stepped inside. The hallway was illuminated by daylight only, but no dust clouds greeted them.

“HELLO?,” Jem yelled. Alec shushed him. “What? If it’s zombies we’re screwed. If it’s your siblings it doesn’t matter.”

No one answered.

Alec crossed to the living area, pointing his bow left and right. The room was empty. He let his weapon sink in defeat.

“What about upstairs?,” Jem asked, obviously trying for some positive result.

“The door was loud enough. If they were upstairs someone would have sneaked down to take a look.”

Jem seemed to weigh the options. “Maybe they _are_ injured? We should at least take a look.”

Stuffing the arrow back Alec looked around the living room. “You go. I don’t-I don’t need to see it.”

Jem looked like he was going to protest. Then he shuffled off.

Alec almost sank to the ground then. The memories were bright and painful behind his eyes: Jace giving Max a piggyback ride, Alec curled up on the sofa, scolding them over the top of his book but secretly enjoying this; movie nights with too much popcorn and horrible movies they had let Izzy pick; sliding over the smooth wood chasing and teasing each other. Home meant family, but it was all gone now, the walls surrounding him not enough to contain it.

He ripped the fridge open with more force than necessary and piled up the bit of food that was still edible. By the time Jem came back downstairs he had turned it into something resembling sandwiches.

“We can pack them and eat somewhere else,” Jem suggested.

Taking his plate Alec sat down defiantly on all too familiar cushions. He wasn’t going to cry. He was never getting any of this back, but he wasn’t going to cry. There was still something left. There had to be.

Jem watched him devour his sandwich with aggravating sympathy. Alec tried to keep his face from contorting and focused on the bread.

“So....I guess we should check out the neighborhood, see what we can find?,” Jem finally asked. Alec nodded, stuffing the remainder of his sandwich in his mouth.

Jem did too, and then Alec left the last reminder of hope behind for good. They spend the next hours in a search as fruitless as the previous one, before climbing a church steeple, smashing the colored glass window, and setting up camp next to the bell.

Alec took the first watch, unable to sleep while his mind kept racing. They had learned everything and nothing today; Jace and Isabelle were alive but untraceable; they had been at the Lightwood's but not waited there for Alec, probably thinking him dead. The past week he had worried about his siblings’ health, never once thinking that they might do the same, but now that he was assured of it he couldn’t stop. What if they had assumed him doomed and skipped town? Would they have better chances in Brocelin Forrest? What happened once they reached the borders of Idris? Had the virus spread to the neighboring countries? Where should he start looking, Germany or Switzerland?

As his mind wheeled the sun descended, scorching the horizon and setting the world aflame. It fell down a few streets down, illuminating that small part of the night while the rest was cloaked in darkness. No, that wasn’t right.

“Jem!,” he jolted the other boy awake rather roughly. “Jem, fire! There’s a fire!”

Grumbling Jem turned his head in the direction Alec was pointing, his eyes still struggling to comprehend sight. “Must be someone stupid out there-,” he said at last. His eyes widened when he saw Alec was already packing. “-and you think we should go see who. Of course you do.”

Sleepily he struggled after Alec. They packed in five and were down the tower in ten. While they made their way over to the fire a sense of deja vú overcame Alec. He just hoped it wasn’t zombies this time. The little backyard was closer than he’d estimated, and soon they stood at the edge of another roof, looking down at a strange scene.

Four people surrounded the campfire. Two of them huddled close to it and could have been asleep for all Alec saw of them. They were shadows in a dark night. The other two stood a bit farther from the fire and were, if their tone was anything to go by, fighting. The small girl that was facing Alec gestured wildly. At first he thought she was blonde but then the flame shifted and he saw her hair was the color of fire.

“I don’t care! If we don’t put it out we’re _all_ going to die!,” she shrieked.

Across from her stood his brother, his fair hair a fiery crown atop his head. Alec couldn’t see his face, but Jace’s shoulders were tight, hurting. “We’re not,” he said, voice straining.

“We are!,” the girl was a bit calmer now. “I know he means a lot to you, Jace, but he’s not worth all of us. The chances are not worth all of us.”

The way she said _Jace_ was a punch to his stomach. It was the way Jace said _Alec._ It was the way Alec said _Jace._ It wasn’t the way this girl who they didn’t know was supposed to speak.

“He’s worth more than all of us,” someone by the fire said. Alec recognized her voice before he saw her face etched into the darkness. _Isabelle._ “My brother’s worth the world.”

“The world's not worth much anymore,” the person next to her said. Isabelle threw her hands up in exasperation.

“We keep a fire at night until we find Alec,” Jace said, his tone final. Fire-hair looked like she wanted to protest.

Alec surprised himself by speaking. “You should still keep it, it’s easier to hold watch when you see your enemies.”

Distracting himself from everyone’s eyes on him he jumped into the square. Isabelle almost stumbled over the guy’s legs as she hurried over to him. Alec barely had time to put his bow away before her arms were around his neck, pulling him into a breathtaking embrace.

“Hey,” he whispered into her hair. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here.”

“You’re here. You’re alive.” She sounded like Alec felt; as if this all was a dream. He pushed her away a little to get a better look at her. Isabelle looked thin and unhappy.

“I’m fine,” he said, pressing her against him again. “You?”

“I’m fine now,” she murmured against his chest. Her arms tightened around his middle but Alec didn’t care. Air was the last thing on his mind.

Over Isabelle’s shoulder he saw Jace, further from the girl than before but still a few feet away from them. His face was a pained question. Entangling one arm from his sister Alec held it out to for his brother.

“I’m so sorry.” Jace’s voice was an anguished and urgent whisper. “I’m so fucking sorry. It’s all my fault. You almost died and it’s all my fault.”

“Yeah it is,” Alec said, pulling him closer. He wasn’t sure if Jace stifled a laugh or a sob. “Don’t do it again.”

They were interrupted when Jem, finally having accessed the situation for himself, decided to join them on the ground. Jace pulled away. Alec never saw where he got the knife from. It almost rammed into his elbow as he held his brother back.

“That’s Jem. He’s a friend.” Jace let the knife drop. “Jem, this are Isabelle and Jace.”

“And that?,” Jem asked, pointing a finger at fire-hair and the guy she was holding hands with by the fire.

“That’s Clary and Simon,” Isabelle supplied.

A shudder ran down Alec’s spine at the name. Jem’s face was a blank mask. He pulled Isabelle closer, kissing her temple while in his head the world ended again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really tried keeping this chapter short, but......it doesn't work. And I also couldn't split it, so. Monster chapters will continue to come. Also I kinda wanted this to end with Alec punching Jace in the face but then I thought, naw, that's not Alec. Then I wanted him to be angry at jace. Then I realized I needed Jalec hugs.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just checked and apparently the last update was three months ago?? I'm incredibly sorry for taking so long. I want to thank you for being patient with me. I don't really have any excuse except "I didn't have time" and "I didn't feel like writing" and usually if one didn't apply the other did. I'm sorry.

Jem was the only one who seemed to be happy about going back to the _Dumort_. Alec walked next to him, and the soft, genuine smile on Jem’s lips only made him more miserable. If it had been up to him he would have taken Jace and Isabelle and gotten away. Yet Jem had left the people he cared about behind to see Alec safely to those _he_ cared about, so Alec owed him to return the favor. And then there was the thing with Clary, Simon and the John Doe. Part of him wanted to solve that mystery. It was just that Alec really hated working with and relying on people he knew nothing about.

In the end he swallowed his discomfort and concentrated on something else.

Jace walked behind them, eyes troubled and mind working. Alec knew his brother wanted to talk to him, but this morning the euphoria of having the remainder of his family back together had subsided, leaving Alec with only cold rage against Jace. He could never hold a grudge against his brother, but right now he needed to ignore him in order to cope with it.

Next to Jace was Clary, stubbornly walking beside him even though he had interrupted her we-need-to-get-my-mother-back tirade rather harshly this morning. Alec took some satisfaction from the fact that he was still more important to his brother than this random girl.

Following Clary like a love-sick puppy was her bespectacled friend Simon. Part of Alec admired the loyalty with which he was following her around, even though it was almost blindly and out of very conflicted romantic feelings. He was too much like Clary though, and so the fact remained: Alec didn’t like either of them.

Isabelle's obvious infatuation with him didn't do anything to change that. Alec saw the glances she stole and the way she stood a bit straighter when he looked, so desperate to be noticed despite Clary, and it made Alec even angrier. His sister deserved better.

It wasn’t until they were back at the hotel, confronted with other people, that he realized how they must have looked to Jem, trotting awkwardly behind him, each too caught up in their own head to notice the others. They were pathetic. If he hadn't been so involved in it Alec might have laughed.

“Dios mio,” Raphael said, emerging from the shadows as they crossed the foyer. “You’re back.”

Alec could feel Jace’s startled stare on his back as Raphael turned to call for Catarina, but didn’t turn. His heart was already in his throat as they waited, and he began fidgeting with his bow to pass the time.

“Jem! Alec!” Catarina’s face was livid, but her eyes betrayed her. She went to Jem first, hitting him lightly on the shoulder before drawing him into a hug. “What were you thinking?”

Jem started to say something, but Catarina had already pulled away and gone to put her arms around Alec. “It’s nice to have you back, dear.”

Alec, not quite sure what to do, patted her back lightly.

She disentangled herself from him and mustered the rest of the room. Catarina gave him a confused look. “I thought you said you had two siblings, not four?”

“I have. Jace and Isabelle,” Alec said, pointing them out. “They somehow ended up with Simon and Clary after the fight.”

A sliver of recognition went over Catarina’s eyes at the mention of Clary’s name. Alec swallowed, glad that he wasn’t the only one who connected her with the John Doe and at the same time wishing it was all just his imagination. Raphael glared at the newcomers, but otherwise no one seemed to notice.

Whatever Catarina thought about it she hid, keeping her voice steady. “Raphael, why don’t you go and tell Tessa that we’re gonna need more of whatever she planned for lunch because we have guests. Jem and I will show them around. Alec, I believe the others are in the living room.”

Alec nodded, waiting for the others to leave. As Clary passed him he grabbed her by the arm. “We need to talk,” he hissed.

Clary glared at him without making an attempt to leave. Simon stopped to look at them, but Clary waved him on.

She turned to look at Alec once they were alone. “What do you-hey!”

Alec caught her wrist and dragged her toward the living quarters. Clary struggled against him, but Alec’s hand wouldn’t budge. She stopped.

“If you lay one finger on me I’ll scream.”

Alec ignored her, instead pulled her in front of him and pushed her through the bedroom door.

Ragnor, who had been reading by the bed, jumped up at the commotion. Clary never even looked at him. She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the bed like she was seeing a ghost. Alec was about to ask her if she knew the man when she threw herself onto the bed and started sobbing.

He stepped closer, avoiding Ragnor’s angry stare.

“Alec-”

“Clary,” he said. She had stopped crying and was muttering under her breath. Her fingers brushed the bandages over the man’s chest tentatively, then more frantically, running over his shoulders and his cheeks. “Clary.”

She whirled around, accusation clear on her face. “What did you do to him?”

Alec leaned against the bed, exhausted. “I saved his life.”

Clary turned back to the man, her shoulders slacking.

“We were out patrolling when we saw-”

The door banged open, the others spilling into the room, Jace, then Isabelle, Simon, and Catarina. They stopped to stare. Simon unfroze first, throwing himself onto the other side of the bed with a euphoric exclamation. “Luke!”

Alec answered his siblings’ confused look with a shrug. When he returned his attention to the bed Clary was watching him intently.

“You saw?”

“Zombies,” Alec went on, the horrible sight playing in front of his eyes again. “They were everywhere, surrounding Luke and the woman he was with. Jocelyn.” Clary stiffened at the name, the angry expression on her face softening to something more vulnerable. “I’m sorry, Clary. She’s not here. The zombies...there were too many of them. We tried to hold them off, somehow make it out of there, but then they got a hold of her...and we lost her. I’m really sorry.”

Clary looked away, fiddling with Luke’s hand in her own. She made a hiccuping sound, and it took Alec a moment to realize she was crying. Jace was by her side in an instant.

The knot in Alec’s stomach tightened again. He pushed off the bed and left.

Izzy followed him. Alec turned to face her in the hallway. She was smiling softly, in a way that reminded him of their mother, her eyes full of worry and love.

“How are you holding up?”

Alec shrugged, had nothing to say.

“Alec, I know you’re angry at Jace, and you have every right to be, but he’s still your brother. Your best friend.”

“I know, Izzy.” He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m not going to cut either of you off, okay? I just got you back. I just...need some time to deal with all of this.” He gestured wildly, knowing Isabelle would understand.

She nodded and he leaned forward to kiss the top of her head again. “I love you, Izzy.”

Someone was shouting Luke’s name again. Isabelle looked bewildered between the door and him. “I think he woke up. Don’t you wanna be there, so he can meet his savior?”

Alec shook his head. “I’m sure you’ll tell him only good things about me.”

She reached out to take his hand. Alec let her. “You know this isn't your fault, right? Clary's mom not being here? You did all you could do at that moment, Alec, you always do. So please don't beat yourself up about it.”

Sometimes it was a little frightening how well she knew him. Alec gave her a soft smile and squeezed her hand. Isabelle sighed, turning back toward the door. “I love you too, big brother.”

He watched the door close silently behind her before making his way downstairs. The image of this strange girl curled up against his brother kept floating before his eyes. He’d known there was something between them when he met Clary, but he hadn’t realized how close his brother actually was to the girl that had almost cost Alec his life. He tried to place the way he felt about it. He couldn’t. It was just too much.

His feet carried him to the living room almost on their own violation, and it wasn’t until he’d settled into one of the armchairs that he realized he was alone with the one person that could make the chaos in his head worse.

Magnus sat cross-legged on an ottoman, scrupulously studying a map on the table. Alec couldn't stand looking at Magnus directly, so he let his eyes roam around the room. When he looked at Magnus again Magnus was looking back. His face was blank, all sharp, hard edges; his lips curled into a cold smile that strayed far from reaching his eyes.

“Alec, nice to see you’ve decided to come back. That was quite the ruckus upstairs so I’m assuming you found your siblings.”

Now that he knew Magnus was at least willing to talk to him Alec could breathe a little easier. “Yeah, I did. They’ve run into some other people while looking for me, and those people know Luke. The John Doe. That’s what all that was about. Anyway....”

He trailed off. Magnus was looking at his map again.

“You’re mad at me,” Alec said. It got Magnus attention but apparently didn’t warrant an answer. “Why?”

“You ran away. You kissed me, and then you ran away to look for your siblings. Without telling me. Taking Jem with you instead.” Magnus voice was still lacking emotion but his eyes were full with something bitter and vulnerable that cut beneath Alec’s skin and left him bleeding.

The hurt and the cold looked wrong on Magnus face, and it made Alec angry to see it there. It made him even angrier to know it was there because of him. When he finally spoke his voice sounded harsher than intended.

“What do you want me to say, Magnus? That I’m sorry? I am. That I regret it? I don’t. They’re my family, they’re all I have left, and I’m not going to choose some people I’ve just met over them. I’m not gonna risk loosing them for any of you. I’m sorry. But, I would do it again.”

Silence stretched out between them like an arctic wasteland, cold and obscure, endless until it wasn’t anymore. Magnus sighed. He lost his posture and folded into himself, pulling his knees up to rest his head on them. His eyes were still fixed on Alec, though less guarded.

Alec let the armchair take his weight. He wanted to cry.

“I’m sorry too,” Magnus said.


	8. Chapter 8

Alec didn’t know what to do with himself. He wanted to ask if the _Dumort_ had a gym where he could release his emotional baggage onto a punching bag and clear his head enough to think, but he also didn’t want to leave Magnus alone with his own thoughts. In the end he picked up the map Magnus had been studying.

On the paper Alicante looked abysmally small, a city made out of small gray blocks, white lines and a simplified, blue tree where the canal and its side arms connected the city; it was an organized mess of jumbled lines that spoke of arbitrary settling and the rich history of an old nations capital. He found his old home immediately, absently tracing well known streets and places while taking in the rest. Someone had taken a red marker to the map, dividing it into fifteen sections. In section one a gray block had been framed and marked with a capital D. In the neighboring section two a building had been named M in the same fashion. Across the map scattered buildings named Z.

Alec raised his eyes to Magnus. “Dumort. Your loft. What does the Z stand for?”

Magnus gave a dry chuckle. “Zombies. See” -he pushed the map back onto the table and pointed- “The zombies being undead you’d think they just stumble around all day, but they actually are....well, you could say _migrating._ Gathering with a purpose. We’ve been monitoring them for a while, but so far we couldn’t find one.”

“Ah, but there is one,” a familiar voice said behind Alec. Jace stepped up and frowned the paper. “You got a pen?”

Magnus nodded, rummaging underneath the table. Clary, Simon, and Isabelle filed in after Jace, the latter taking a seat on the side of Alec’s armchair. Magnus viewed the newcomers with mild confusion as he held the pen out to Jace.

“Uh, Magnus, this is my brother Jace, my sister Isabelle, and Clary and Simon. Everyone, this is Magnus,” Alec introduced them lamely. He felt the sudden urge to search for a punching bag, but stayed put.

Magnus acknowledged the introduction politely, then asked, “So you’re saying you discovered the reason for the zombie’s behavior?”

Instead of answering Jace took the pen with a feral, albeit harmless, grin and attacked the map.

It was Clary who answered. “Luke told us. It’s why the zombies attacked him and my mom, and why they took her instead of killing her. See, when she was young my mom was married to my father, Valentine Morgenstern-”

“Wait, as in Morgenstern Pharmaceuticals?” Magnus interrupted.

Everyone stopped to stare at him. Jace put his pen down, it’s tip pointing at Magnus like the weapon Alec knew it could become in his brothers hand. “You know something about them?”

“I wrote a paper about them my Senior year. I think the topic is interesting, and you can write a lot about how they experiment with genetic engineering and test on animals. It’s enraging.”

Alec only raised an eyebrow at the new information about Magnus. Isabelle clapped her hands and took over the narrative. “That’s what’s important about the story. Clary’s parents got a divorce while he was still in med school, because Valentine had become too obsessed with finding a cure for demon pox.”

“That’s a neurological disease,” Magnus supplied helpfully. “Passed on through the Y-chromosome. Dominant but dormant, at least in most cases. Deadly in all.”

Alec waited for an explanation in English but Isabelle looked pleased with what Magnus had said and went on. “It runs in the Morgenstern family. Valentine’s father died because of it, and so did his son. Valentine went mad after he and Jocelyn lost their child and lost Jocelyn in his madness. He became one of Alicante Academy’s best medical graduates and founded Morgenstern Pharmaceuticals, where he finally had the resources to engage in his research. Luke’s not quite sure what exactly happened then but we believe Valentine set the virus free that turn Alicante into zombieland.”

“An experiment gone wrong?” Alec asked, distracted by Magnus stealing the pen from Jace and scribbling furiously on the map.

Magnus threw the pen down, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “An experiment. Period.”

Everyone leaned in to get a better view of Magnus drawing while he explained.

“He’s using Alicante as his lab. See, my guess is he released the virus here, here, here, and here-” he pointed to four Z-blocks, each in one of the fourths of the circle he’d drawn around the city “-and set up control points at the same time. But it’s getting to crowded, so he’s moving them out, spreading them across the city.”

Alec felt a little sick. “But why would he kill innocent people to test his cure?”

Magnus shrugged, even though his face told Alec he felt the same. “His goal is to be the biggest asshole possible?”

“Maybe it’s not about the virus anymore?” Simon said. He was gesticulating wildly. “Maybe he just wanted to create an army. An army of brainless, slowly decaying corpses, but an army nevertheless. And Luke said Valentine wanted Jocelyn back so he used his army to take her. Plus it was probably cheaper and cooler than hiring the mafia to kidnap his ex-wife.”

“Cooler?” Jace echoed.

Simon let his arms hang in front of his body in a really bad zombie-imitation. “Yeah, you know the whole monster army aesthetic-”

“It’s not important,” Clary interrupted, pointing to one of Jace’s abstract pictures. “Valentine has my mom. I’m going there and I’m going to get her back.”

Alec could see the glimmer in Jace’s eyes as he looked at her, knew that his brother was going to volunteer before Jace even attempted to say something, and beat him to it. “He’ll be very scared of a little girl marching into his hideout demanding her mother back. With what are you going to threaten him? Tickles?”

Clary whirled around, her face almost as red as her hair. “I’m not a little girl, and I’ll kill him if I have to.”

“And she won’t be alone.” Simon crossed his arms defiantly before his chest. Alec would have laughed at the he impossibility of these two fighting against an army of zombies if not for-

“That’s right,” Jace said. “We’re going with her.” He looked at Isabelle first, daring her to challenge his decision, and she held his gaze. Next he locked eyes with Alec.

Every fiber of Alec’s being told him to refuse, to shake Jace until his senses returned and he saw that there was no use in fighting. His vision turned red and the red was blood on the cobblestone pavement of the Angel Square, and the ripping of flesh. It was a red mouth grinning around the bone it was picking clean.

He held Jace’s gaze, knowing that his brother wouldn’t back down and that Alec wouldn’t let him run into danger on his own.

“Well,” Magnus said from across the table, “If you’re all so hell bent on taking it up with Valentine you’re going to need a plan and a medic. The latter I can provide, the former you’ll have come up with yourselves.”

“We’re not gonna need a medic,” Alec said. He’d gone for the authoritative voice his father used, needing everyone to listen to him. It was enough to put his family into this kind of danger, he wouldn’t take anyone from the _Dumort._

Magnus met his eyes with the same stubbornness that Alec felt. “Oh, yes you are. You could get hurt out there. Besides, my knowledge of genetics and Morgenstern Pharmaceuticals might come in handy.”

“Alec, he’s right.” Isabelle’s voice was soothing in his ear. Alec hated her for it.

“Of course I am. Besides, I know where they have their headquarters. Nothing will stop me from following you there.”

Alec looked around at the anticipating, parts pleading faces. The fabric of the armchair was resisting his urge to plunge his fingers into it. He really wanted a punching bag.

There was a knock on the door. “Lunch’s ready,” Raphael informed them curtly.

Alec followed him wordlessly. Behind him he could hear someone high-five. He wanted to fall back and beg Magnus not to do this, but he couldn’t find the words.

When they entered the dining room all eyes were on them. Alec hurriedly took his place beside Magnus, but when he looked up, Tessa was staring at him. He stared back, refusing to feel guilty for whatever she was accusing him off, except his body betrayed him.

She laughed, loud and heartily, causing everyone to be quiet and turn around.

“This is nice. Don’t you think?” she said with a warm smile, putting her hand on top of Will’s where it lay on the table.

Will didn’t notice. He was staring absently down the table, his eyes on Isabelle. Alec felt an irritated pang. Tessa squeezed Will’s hand and his eyes wandered to their hands. He shrugged.

“Well,” she went on. “I’ve always wanted a big family. I only ever had one brother.”

Isabelle joined her laughter. “Try three. You don’t want that.”

“We weren’t that bad,” Jace protested indignantly.

Clary patted him on the shoulder while Simon said something to the effect that sisters were as bad, which Raphael corrected, claiming siblings in general were bad. Soon Alec was enveloped in the familiar banter and noise of eating that was supposed to come with meal time.

“Are you alright, Alexander?” Magnus asked.

Alec hadn’t even realized he was making a face and schooled his features. He gave Magnus half of the truth. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just missing home a little.”

Magnus nodded and Alec turned his attention to Jace who was relating the story of Jocelyn, Valentine, and the zombies, somehow less gruesome served with buttered bread, dry meat, and cheese. Across the table Malcolm was leaning over Ragnor to hear better.

“Oh, I do enjoy a good love story,” he said when Jace was done.

Magnus looked annoyed at that. “This isn’t a love story, Malcolm.”

“But it is. Look around you, Magnus. So much love.”

It was Ragnor who answered. “That’s not love. It’s hatred and petty revenge and ugly things that feed of the wrong side of love. It’s the opposite of love and we’re in the middle of it.”

The whole table had quietened down to listen in. Catarina waited politely until Ragnor was done speaking before clinking her knife against her glass, turning the attention toward her. She was addressing the whole room but her eyes were on Alec.

“So. Valentine?”

“We’re leaving tomorrow morning. Luke said Clary’s mom is still alive, we have an idea where she might be, so we’re going after it.”

“Great,” Will said, his face frightfully cheerful at the thought of facing a zombie army. “We’ll come with you.”

“No.” Catarina’s face could have been made of stone.

“She’s right,” Raphael said. “It’s hard enough just to stay alive. Remember our vote two days ago? No leaving the _Dumort._ Alec and his friends don’t belong to this family, they can do what they want. We stay here.”

To Alec it felt like a punch to the stomach. _You ran away._ He could have been part of this family. Magnus’ family. He looked at Magnus next to him, his eyes downcast, not meeting Catarina’s, not daring to defy her the way he had Alec. The feeling in Alec’s chest disgusted him.

“Thank you. Besides, we can’t cut our way through Valentine’s zombies. The plan will require few people and stealth, so it’s better if you all stay here. I’m sorry.”

Alec decided he would ask Tessa or Jem for the punching bag when they cleared the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, okay. I wanted to upload this chapter two days ago, updating regularly, you know. But then I a) accidentally, irrecoverably deleted the chapter, b) spend more time writing it again than necessary because c) I found out I had backed up the majority of it somewhere and then d) didn't get to finish it yesterday because my body decided that a cold was exactly what I needed. The good thing is I'm working with a deadline and a buffer, so next week should, hopefully, work out better.


	9. Chapter 9

The gym was just beyond the weapons room, an old storage space decked out with soft mats, faux weaponry, and a hook mounted to the ceiling meant for punching bags. Alec found one in the corner of the room and put it up. Next to it was a roll of bandages but he didn’t bother with them.

The moment the bag hung he let his fists think all the things he’d shoved aside over the last couple of days, let his emotions burn themselves out by fueling physical exercise.

Alec had never been good at expressing what he felt, keeping a calm exterior while bottling everything else up. He was the big brother, the oldest, the responsible one. The one the others came to for advice, the one his parents trusted to look after his siblings. The only one not allowed to fail. The only one who failed constantly.

He’d been unprepared for the zombies. He’d been unprepared for Clary. He’d almost died. He’d deserved it. He’d been unprepared for the zombies. He’d been unable to save Jocelyn. He’d kissed Magnus. He’d run away. He’d allowed Jace the decision to volunteer them all for Clary’s suicide mission. He would fail his parents even in death, again and again. He would kill the siblings he had left.

_ It was Clary’s fault. _

It was his fault.

_ If it hadn’t been for Clary they would be staying here _ .

If it hadn’t been for Clary he would have never ended up at the Dumort.

Clary was going to kill them all.

_ Alec _ was going to kill them all.

They were all going to die.

They weren’t going to rescue Jocelyn. They weren’t going to stop Valentine. They weren’t going to stop Valentine. They weren’t going to stop. Valentine. Going to die. Jace’s fault. Not keeping Jace in check. Alec’s fault. Breaking Magnus heart. Alec’s fault.

The bag gave way underneath Alec’s fists, flying across the mats and stuttering to a stop near the wall. Alec cursed under his breath. The strings that had held the bag to the hook had ripped, so he used the bandages to hang it up again.

This time he concentrated on the way he punched, tried to switch it up. Use his knee here, an elbow there. His whole body was a weapon. In a fight force didn’t matter as much as aim. Think before you throw. Go in with a plan.

He needed a plan for Valentine. If he had a plan they would make it. If Alec had a plan he could pull his siblings through this. If Alec had a plan they could win. If Alec had a plan.  _ If. _

His mind fell short on imagining what would happen once they got to Morgenstern Pharmaceuticals. Alec didn’t even know how the building looked. Was it one story? Two? Ten? How many entrances? How many rooms? Which rooms were safe?

_ Besides, my knowledge of Morgenstern Pharamceuticals might come in handy,  _ Magnus voice echoed in his head. 

But Magnus didn’t know the layout of the building. 

_ I know where they have their headquarters. Nothing will stop me from following you there. _

Magnus wouldn’t disobey Catarina.

_ You ran away.  _

Alec could feel the look Magnus had given him after Raphael’s speech, chilling him.  _ Nothing will stop me from following you.  _

No. 

_ You ran away. _

Shut up. 

_ Nothing.  _

Shut up. I’m not taking anyone from the Dumort. 

_ I’m sorry too _ . 

Shut up! 

_ You ran away. You kissed me, and then you ran away. _

_ Coward, _ his father’s voice replaced Magnus’.  _ A person who does the easier thing. Brave men do what they’re afraid of doing. Cowards run away. _

SHUT UP!

“That contraption of yours won’t last long.”

Alec whirled around to see Magnus standing in the doorway to the gym. He’d switched into sweatpants and a loose T-shirt.

“It’s not like the original one was any better.” Alec gave the bandage an angry yank. The bag almost crushed his toes as it came down. He wanted to throw it at someone.

Magnus made a tentative step into the room. “When do you leave tomorrow?”

“Too damn early for goodbyes.”

When Alec glanced up from his pretended inspection of the punching bag, Magnus eyes were wide. Alec had raised his voice without noticing. He should have noticed.

Before he could apologize Magnus spoke. “I’m coming with you, Alexander. I’m not asking you for permission. I  _ am _ going on this mission.”

Alec could feel the heat in his chest deflate like a ball. He took his time getting up, sorting his arguments before he could stumble over his own words. “You could get hurt.”

“So do you,” Magnus replied. He planted his feet wide and spread his hands. “Teach me to fight.”

“It’s going to be ugly. Whatever Valentine’s hiding, it’s not going to be pretty.”

Magnus jaw was set. “I’m ready.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“Teach me to fight,” Magnus repeated.

Alec kicked the punching bag to the side to make room, then imitated Magnus’ stance. It had been too long since he fought another human,even longer without the intention to hurt. “Bend your knees a little more. Yeah, like that. Now punch me.”

Magnus eyes held his, a grin spreading over his lips that must have been the twin of Alec’s. Then Magnus’ fist sailed toward his face.

Alec blocked his arm with his own, then wrapped his hand around Magnus’ elbow and pulled him toward himself. Magnus stumbled to his knees in front of Alec.

“Get up,” Alec heard his own voice say. “Try again. Punch me like you mean it. Use all of your body.”

Magnus fist was a blur in the corner of Alec’s eye. He moved forward, kicking Magnus’ legs out from underneath but catching him by the shoulders.

“I could have knocked you out cold like that. Fight me like you mean it. I don’t care if it’s pretty, I don’t care if it’s right. I can’t teach you technique in one afternoon, but I can give you experience. Intuition.  _ Fight  _ me.”

Magnus swung. Alec dodged. Magnus swung again. This time Alec caught him and threw him off balance.

“Keep going.”

Magnus fist went into Alec’s ribs, or would have if Alec had let him. Instead he’d sidestepped the blow and turned to slip behind Magnus. His chin was warm where it rested on Alec’s arm, which was busy crushing Magnus’ windpipe uncomfortably. In his struggle Magnus’ foot almost stomped on Alec’s. Then it found the hollow of Alec’s knee and brought them down.

Alec let go of Magnus throat to stop his fall, but before Magnus could escape from under him he pushed him down.

“If I had a weapon you’d be dead three times over,” Alec said as he stood up.

Magnus got to his feet slowly. With a growl he threw himself at Alec again. They struggled on for a while like that, Magnus kicking and punching and scratching while Alec just side stepped and blocked. Magnus had no knowledge of fighting, but what he lacked in skill he made up in enthusiasm, each defeat driving him on, going up against Alec with all he had, harder, faster, stronger, and Alec knew he was holding back. They both were because they couldn’t afford injury, but Alec enjoyed the casualness of it.

Fighting Magnus like this was  _ fun. _

Time flew as they let their bodies speak. At some point they acquired and lost long wooden sticks with which they hit and stabbed and went through the motions of how not to block a sword. Then they were grappling with their hands again, on the floor, then standing, then on the floor again. There were few words, most of them Alec’s: commands and declarations of Magnus’ defeat.

At some point Magnus hissed and threw his shoulder into Alec’s chest, bringing them both down to the floor. Magnus rolled over and turned. Before Alec could get up again Magnus’ foot was on his shoulder, pushing him down again. Magnus settled on Alec’s thighs while his foot held him down.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Alec said, raising his head a little to look at Magnus.

“Why?”

“Because I could break your leg right now. I only need to sit up forcefully enough.” He sat up slowly to demonstrate.

Magnus made a face and pulled his leg aside. “In an actual fight I’d have a weapon. I’d stab you before you could move up.”

“Not if you’re sitting in my lap.”

Magnus lips pulled up into a smile, his eyes sparkling even though his brows were heavy. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of his face. Alec used his whole hand to shove it back behind Magnus’ hairline.

“Maybe that’s enough for today.”

Magnus didn’t protest. “I think I like that look in your eyes,” he said, ghosting his hand over Alec’s cheekbone. Alec hadn’t even realized he looked a particular way, but he knew what he was feeling: like pulling Magnus closer in his lap. “What are you planning to do?”

Alec wanted to say  _ I’m going to kiss you. I’m going to make out with you on the floor because you make my heart beat faster than it should do after training. Because I really like you and want you to know. _

Instead he just did.

Magnus gasped when their lips met, open and hungry, Alec’s hand taking a hold of his hair. Alec liked the sound and tried to pull away so Magnus would make it again, but one of Magnus’ own hands had already found its way around Alec’s neck. It squeezed a little and Alec moaned. He could feel the Magnus’ chuckle more than hear it.

Magnus pulled him in closer and Alec came willingly. There was still too much space between them. Alec left the urgent press of Magnus lips and grazed across his cheek, Magnus skin soft and sticky and cool beneath Alec’s on-fire lips. He was too hot, his skin burning under Magnus touch as his heart tried to break out of his ribs and join Magnus’. Alec entangled his hand from Magnus’ shirt and moved it to Magnus thigh, dragging him closer. He left it on Magnus’ hip, sliding his mouth across Magnus’ jaw, and Magnus made that sound again, his hands fisting in Alec’s hair, pulling him up and his lips onto Magnus’ again. Then Magnus’ hip moved up Alec’s, grinding against it. They moaned, or maybe just one of them did, but it didn’t matter because it was the same.

Alec moved away, pushing his face into Magnus’ neck as Magnus ground again. There was a plastic  _ whack _ when Alec turned them over, Magnus back hitting the mattress and Alec’s hip meeting Magnus’. He fumbled for a crack between the mattresses, needing something to hold onto that wasn’t Magnus, because he was slipping, they both were, and Alec just needed to enjoy this, right there. Magnus smelled sweetly, of sweat and something whose best description was  _ Magnus _ . He kissed Magnus’ neck, soft and breezy, then again and again, making a trail of butterfly kisses around Magnus throat and up his adam’s apple. There was a valley between his throat and his chin that Alec ran his tongue along. Magnus sighed underneath him, the sound sending shivers up Alec’s bare arms.

Magnus hands slipped under Alec’s shirt and up his back, hot against Alec’s cool skin. Alec bit the corner of his mouth. Magnus sighed again, turning his face so their lips were aligned again. Alec pushed them open, sliding his tongue into Magnus mouth. There was a moan. He could feel his shirt flutter back onto his back, Magnus’s thin fingers tracing the muscles of his neck until they disappeared in his hair. Magnus’ mouth left his, following the shape of his jaw before dropping lower. Alec pushed his hips into Magnus’ and Magnus groaned against his neck. His breath was hot, and Alec shivered again. He let his hands slip up Magnus stomach to memorize the soft muscles there.

Magnus kissed his neck again before letting his head fall back with a long sigh. Alec blinked down at him, Magnus’ thumb tracing his cheekbone.

Magnus voice was hoarse. “Maybe we should head upstairs, shower and join the others for dinner.”

His thumb had made its way to Alec’s lips, and Alec pushed them against it. Taking his hand away, Magnus leaned up to press his lips to Alec’s instead.

“Yeah, that’s probably the smarter alternative to sex on the gym floor.”

Laughter lit Magnus face, making his eyes gleam with joy and something else. Something that knotted Alec’s stomach in a pleasant, anticipating way.

“Not really,” Magnus said before pulling Alec into one last, chaste kiss.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first came up with a basic story line these three scenes weren't included, but I'm glad they are now. They were a lot of fun to write.


	10. Chapter 10

They left early the next morning.

Alec was the first one awake, so it fell to him to wake the rest. Magnus was first, peering out from behind his door with bleary eyes. He promised a quick breakfast and Alec kissed him good morning. They separated. Alec went to wake the others.

They ate silently in the kitchen, everyone taking the time to wake up fully. Alec wished they had time for coffee, but they didn’t even have time to sit down.

“Shouldn’t we pack provisions?” Isabelle asked as she stuffed the empty bags of dried fruit into the trash.

Magnus shook his head.

“We don’t have anything to put them in,” Alec said at the same time that a voice at the door said: “Already done.”

Catarina was barefoot, her fair hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. Her pajamas were rumpled so Alec assumed she must have just gotten up. He glanced at Magnus, whose wide eyes looked slightly guilty.

“You’re not slipping out the back door,” Catarina said. “I know you planned to do that. _You_ -” she pointed at Alec “-have a serious problem with that. And _you-_ ” she pointed at Magnus “-are not any better than him.”

Magnus gulped, opened his mouth to say something, and then thought better of it. Catarina left.

They caught up with her in the weapons room, where she was waiting next to four overflowing backpacks. Alec threw her an apologizing smile, but she just shrugged.

“Jesus fuck, that’s a shit-ton of weapons,” Jace exclaimed behind Alec. He walked along the wall, fingers ghosting over the sharp blades with the admiration of a small boy who'd walked into a toy store.

Alec felt a little bad for cutting the experience short. “Take what you need so we can go.”

It felt good to have his bow and quiver on him for a purpose, knives and daggers nestling against his hip fondly. Magnus stood next to him, eying the weapons skeptically. Alec grabbed a thigh-sheath and put it on him. Then he slipped two daggers into it and handed Magnus a knife. “Put it in your boot,” he said before turning to face Catarina.

She pointed to the backpacks. “I split everything you need over them. There’s bandages and pain killers, processed food, sleeping bags and blankets, and water. That you’ll need to fill up, but otherwise it should last for a week or two. I hope you won’t be out there for that long.”  
Jace gave a short laugh. “We’ll be back before you know it. Give us a week, tops.”

Catarina gave him a cold stare. “I’m serious.”

“Me too.” Jace returned the look, all signs of the boy gone. It made Alec's stomach knot with dread, to be reminded that this other side of his brother existed, and more so, was necessary.

Isabelle broke free of their semi-circle to host one of the bags onto her back, Simon, Clary and Jace following her lead. Magnus hovered anxiously beside Alec, and if Alec hadn’t known better he’d have thought he was hiding from Catarina. She left the group by the backpacks and came over. Magnus made a very undignified noise as she squeezed him against her. Alec didn’t understand what she was saying, but it sounded unflattering.

Before he had time to brace himself, she’d stepped back from Magnus and wrapped her arms around him. This time his arms were free and he put them on her back.

“Bring him back in one piece, please.”

Alec nodded against her shoulder.

“And the rest of you too, understood? You’re all coming back here alive.”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Alec missed her warmth as soon as it was gone. Her small body had pressed against his the familiar way Isabelle’s did, and he remembered that he was no longer alone. _They_ were no longer alone. Alec didn’t know what to do with it.

He turned to face his siblings.

“Let’s go.”

Catarina followed them into the lobby. “If anyone asks, I didn’t know about you,” she said, pointing at Magnus.

“Of course,” he replied.   
They left the _Dumort_ behind just as the sun rose over its roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short chapter, but I felt like continuing after this scene or leaving it out were the wrong paths. I hope you feel the same.


	11. Chapter 11

The zombie situation had become worse. One would think there was no way a zombie-apocalypse wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, but somehow it wasn’t. Not when the zombies moved with purpose and behind it all was a psychopathic maniac obsessed with his power.

Alec could feel the dread worrying a hole into his stomach, one that got bigger the closer to Morgenstern Pharmaceuticals they came. Valentine had established a parameter, more and more zombies patrolling the streets, and soon they had to exchange asphalt for roof tops.

From their point Valentine’s zombie guard wasn’t doing their job particularly well, but its numbers were impressive.

“I wonder how he manages to control them,” Isabelle muttered as they crept behind a zombie’s back onto a building closer to the lair.

“Micro magnetic waves,” Simon answered, somehow managing to make the statement sound like a question. “At least I heard that was possible. From those we have encountered we can assume that their brains don’t function properly. And, if their nervous system is shot, it should be easy for Valentine to hijack it.”

“That’s possible,” Magnus said.

If it hadn’t meant falling of the roof Alec thought Simon might have made a gesture of victory. It was strangely endearing, and Alec immediately shoved the thought aside.

“How do you know that?” Jace asked irritatedly.

“I’m good with computers,” Simon said. “And really, humans don’t function that much differently. Besides-”

“Shut up,” Alec interrupted him. “All of you.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“I mean it, shut up for a second.”

Alec was aware of everyone’s eyes on him. He closed his own and concentrated on the sounds around them. The roof tiles crunched precariously underneath them. On the ground the zombies shuffled. There was a low rumble, moving closer. A car.

The flat roof of the other building was too far away, but there was no other choice. They were too exposed.

“Okay. Run.”

One upside to working together for so long was that his siblings trusted him. They might not always listen, but ‘run’ meant they ran. The others followed suit.

Magnus scrambled to his feet in front of Alec, stumbling along the roof and over the low brick wall of the other. His foot caught on it and he fell ungracefully into their hiding spot. Alec rolled to a stop beside him.

“Smooth,” he commented on Magnus form sprawled on the roof. Magnus grunted noncommittally. “Stay down.”

Alec turned to see that the others had made it too. Simon sat with his back against the brick wall, holding his arm. Isabelle was fussing over him, while Jace and Clary peered over the wall. He followed their gaze.

In the courtyard below a jeep had parked next to the zombie. It was eying the jeep without much interest. The jeeps occupants got out, and it treated them the same way. The driver, a young woman with pale blonde hair, made some short remarks that the zombie didn’t respond to. It turned to inspect the passenger, an elderly version of the first woman.

“Military?” Jace said to no one in particular.

The women did indeed look like military, dressed in dark, utilitarian uniforms with their hair pulled back in tight ponytails. The jeep, too, was covered in camouflage colors. But what did the military have to do with Morgenstern Pharmaceuticals? Did the military even still exist?

Alec knew that the barracks had been outside of city limits; when he’d played with the idea of enlisting, he'd calculated how far away from his family that would take him and had eventually dropped the idea because it was just a little too far. He hadn’t thought Idris' finest would still be around under these circumstances. For him the rest of the world looked like the streets of Alicante, abandoned and ruinous, killed by a zombie-virus. The pristine military jeep didn’t fit that picture.

Did that mean the rest of the world was fine?

Did that mean they could escape this?

Hope clawed at his heart, desperate and traitorous. They could just turn around and walk away. Out of Idris, into a world that was still alive.

_And leave everyone behind._

Alec hadn’t even considered the option before, but now that it opened in front of him he was reluctant to take it. Jocelyn Fray meant nothing to him, and yet he here he was. Because she meant everything to Clary, and Alec knew how it was to lose your mother. Because Jace meant everything to Alec, and Clary had been chosen by Jace to be part of their family.

He looked at the small red-head. When had his life become so complicated?

Below them an engine whirred. The jeep rolled happily past the zombie and soon out of view.

Alec sighed and sunk with his back against the wall. He caught Jace’s eyes over Clary’s head.

“What the fuck was that?” his brother asked.

“I don’t know,” Magnus answered. He had dirt stuck to his face and Alec reached out to brush it away. “I didn’t know they had deals with the military. I mean, in retrospect it makes sense to ensure yourself some immunity from prosecution of possible illegal activities, but still....”  
“Maybe it’s not that?” Isabelle offered. “Maybe they just went into the city to see if everything was OK and just now realized something was wrong?”

“The world ended weeks ago, Isabelle. You think they didn’t _notice_ that till now?” Simon was fidgeting angrily with his boots. Alec wondered who he’d lost in the initial wave of zombie-ism.

“Maybe it’s a different country?” she prompted.

Simon just shook his head.

“What if they’re good guys though?” Clary asked. “They could help us get my mom back, right? If they-”

“I wouldn’t count on it, biscuit,” Magnus interrupted softly. “If there had been any way they could have helped survivors they would have done it by now.”

She sighed, resigned. “So, if we don’t ask them for help, what do we do?”

Now that the argument had played out, everyone's attention was back on Alec. “We stick to the plan. Look at the building, get an idea what it could be like inside. Find a place to spend the night. Tomorrow we go in.”

Alec had always liked plans better than their execution, because he could look forward to plans under the euphoric pretense that he would do _something_ , while actually acting out the plan meant actually acting out the plan. There was no more room for possibilities after that.

It was the same now. The quarter hour that separated them from Morgenstern Pharmaceuticals was filled with penned-up energy and was followed by an almost anticlimactic let down.

Alec didn’t know what he’d expected, but a nondescript four-story building with the letters _MORGENSTERN PHARMACEUTICALS_ printed on the front side wasn’t it. Maybe military-style security. A watchtower with a sniper. Visible security cameras. Not a heap of concrete, glass, and steel.

There were groups of zombies patrolling the entrance, so he guessed that had to count for something.

Jace’s huff meant he thought the same thing.

Magnus was the first one to speak. “So this is it. This is what you get for being a major asshole without compassion or a shred of moral decency, Valentine!”

Simon gave him a weird look. Alec was overcome with the sudden urge to bury his face in Magnus’ back.

“Is that gonna be our battle cry? _For being an asshole without compassion or a shred of moral decency!_ _?_ ” Jace asked, not without humor.

“I don’t think we should charge in there crying anything,” Alec said with finality.

They split into twos naturally, each group slinking over the roof tops around the building, so everyone could get their own impression of Valentine’s lair before they decided as a group what _going in_ meant. Alec ended up with Magnus, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm around each other. They didn't need to talk much.

They circled the building, making note of all the entrances and windows. Alec didn’t know much of architecture, but Magnus had some ideas of how an office-and-research facility should look like from the inside, and soon they had build a vague mental image of the building between them. As they did, new questions mixed with old: This side had more windows than the other, does that mean it’s more heavily guarded than the other? Where would he stove away his kidnapped ex-wife, the top or the bottom of the building? Was it possible there was a cellar?

At some point he ended up helping Magnus from one roof to another, both of them slowly becoming wary of just assessing. He’d kept Magnus' hand in his after that, a stupid excuse to touch.

_Don’t get distracted._

He wouldn’t.

They reconvened with the others on the roof they’d started on as the sun reached its peak. Alec and Jace immediately started exchanging their ideas about the building, leading the group a little away from Morgenstern Pharmaceuticals and then down into a backyard.

They settled comfortably around a patch of dirt and started to scheme. Clary turned out to be a talented artist and thus became crucial to their planning, sketching and erasing whatever Jace and Alec threw into the room. Magnus listened halfheartedly, and at some point he and Isabelle began preparing lunch. Or dinner. Alec didn’t notice the time pass, his mind whirring in unison with Jace’s, too engrossed in puzzling out Valentine and their mission to pay attention to basic human needs.

Soft hands pressed a warm plate into his, and he dug in without checking what it was. Magnus settled down next to him, hips and legs aligned.

“So?” he asked.

Alec explained, pointing to Clary’s drawings, realizing some mistakes as he went over the details again, fixing them, and moving on. As he did, conversations stopped to listen to him instead. The conclusion, Alec ended with, was that if everything went well they would have Jocelyn Fray by tomorrow night.

Magnus entwined his leg with Alec’s, knocking their feet together. Alec grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point I would just like to state that I have a basic understanding of how the human body works, but I'm not a doctor or a biologist. I'm making all of this science stuff up. There is no guarantee any of it is accurate.


	12. Chapter 12

Alec sat by the fireside, his mind numbly recapitulating the plan again and again, as a small body joined his. They’d build a small fire to keep their hiding place illuminated, the spring night otherwise warm enough to sleep in. The others had gone to sleep a while ago, after Alec had volunteered to take first watch. With his mind this busy he wouldn’t be able to sleep much anyway, so he'd firmly planted himself next to Magnus and watched his friends. His makeshift family.

Clary sighed next to him, prodding the fire with a small stick.

Alec gave her an irritated look, then just turned back to stare at the fire.

“Why do you hate me, Alec?”

He looked at her again. Her face was open and curious, her fiery hair pulled back into a messy bun. Flames danced over her face, and Alec thought she looked pretty. Powerful. He could see what had intrigued Jace.

“I don’t hate you,” he said, because it was the truth. “I just....dislike what you stand for.”

“And what’s that?”

“Trouble.” At her blank face he continued, “Before we ran into you and Simon we were doing _fine_. And then you come along and everything goes to shit.”

“You’re calling seeing your parents and little brother brutally murdered by zombies in front of you and then scrapping the bottom while trying, not even successfully, to escape the same fate _doing fine_?”

Alec looked back at the flames.

She inhaled slowly.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was a soft whisper. It was the sort of voice you couldn’t exactly stay mad at. Not being able to stay mad at Clary wasn't as frustrating as he'd imagined.

“How much did Jace tell you?”

She smiled, not exactly a sad smile. “Not much about the details. He just....he talks about the time before. And about after. Just.....he really misses them? He missed you too. You’re everything to him, you and Izzy. His family. He loves you more than life.”

Alec played with the button of his leg pocket. He said, “I know.” The words felt painfully inadequate.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about Clary knowing so much about him and Jace. He thought he might feel betrayed by Jace telling Clary, but he wasn’t. His eyes found Jace’s sleeping form at the other side of the fire, protectively curled into a sleeping bag. “I love him too.”

Clary shifted next to him, dropping her head onto his shoulder, and to his surprise Alec found he didn’t mind it. If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine she was Max. He’d only been a little smaller.

“You’re thinking about them.” There was no accusation in her voice and no pressure to tell her anything more.

“Max was the youngest. He read all the time. Comics mostly, and those Japanese ones you have to read back-to-front.”

“Mangas.”

“Mangas. He loved those. Sometimes I would come home late from class and find him curled on the loveseat on the patio with one of them fallen to the ground somewhere. He slept everywhere, like a cat.”

Clary chuckled softly, picking up a stick and doodling in the dirt. “What did you study?”

“English major,” he said. “I wanted to get a BA in English and then...I’m not sure what I would have done then. Maybe become a writer. Maybe just an editor. Do something with the language.”

“A teacher?”

“Hell no. I mean...I’m not good with people. Not the way Jace and Izzy are. It’s easier when they’re not real.”  
“Your people skills look pretty solid to me,” she said. “The guys at the _Dumort_ already accepted you as one of their own. You’re pretty good with me right now. And you always are with Magnus.”

Alec wanted to interrupt her, tell her that that was different because he hadn’t tried. After the world ended, there was no reason to try anymore. He wanted to say that he and Magnus had just clicked after Alec had regained enough consciousness to make decisions again.

He stopped himself and just took the compliment, smiling softly and looking away. Reaching out, he ran his hands through Magnus’ soft hair. She wasn’t exactly wrong.

They settled into a comfortable silence, Clary rubbing some warmth back into his cold, bare arm while Alec took a stick and messed with her drawings.

“You think that jeep came from outside?” he asked, the doubts from earlier rising from where he’d boxed them away. “That maybe the rest of the world isn’t broken?”

“You want to leave Alicante after this is over?”

Somehow sitting in a desolate backyard with his sleeping siblings around him, Magnus and Clary at his side, it was easier to face the truth. “Yes.”

Clary looked at the shadows across from them. “You think they’ll follow you?”

The stick in his hands snapped into two almost on its own violation. Alec gave it over to the flames.

“I think so. I-I don’t-I’m not-”

“I’ll come with you.” Alec must have pulled a funny face because Clary patted his cheek. “If I’ll go there's no reason for Jace not to go. And I’ll know my family far away from Valentine. I don’t even care what the outside world looks like because it can't be worse than what's around us.”

Alec sighed, letting himself rest his head on Clary’s for a moment. His gaze fell involuntarily onto Magnus.

“He’ll come too,” Clary said, yet this time it sounded more like a mad dream than an actual plan. “He’ll bring the whole _Dumort_ with him, but he’ll come.”  
Alec sighed again. Clary snuggled closer to his side. She yawned.

He carefully loosened her iron grip on him. “Okay, that’s enough, biscuit. Get a blanket and go to bed.”

She obeyed, although reluctantly. “You don’t get to call me that. Get your own derogatory nickname for me.”

“ _Biscuit_ isn’t derogatory,” Alec insisted, as she draped a blanket around him too. “But I can go back to _little girl_ if you prefer that one.”

Clary settled against him, her head on his thigh and a small hand around his knee. “I’m taking it back, you’re an asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought shit was going to start happening. You were wrong. Next chapter, though. I promise.


	13. Chapter 13

Isabelle couldn’t cook. It was a universally acknowledged truth in the Lightwood household that had led to the rule that Isabelle was never to cook again. Clary and Simon didn’t know about it which is how they ended up having burnt beans for breakfast.

Alec mused that maybe that meant good luck. After all, if one thing went wrong today, how high were the chances of something else going wrong?

Very high, as it turned out.

First Alec ripped his pants on a thorny bush as they ascended to the roof of one of the surrounding buildings. Then Clary tripped over her laces, and Simon and Magnus both complained and switched assault groups. Last night the general consensus had been that when they found Jocelyn, she might need medical attention and thus Magnus would go in with Clary and Isabelle, while Simon joined Alec and Jace in the group more likely to be caught. Now they argued that Alec and Jace were more likely to be attacked and in need of a medic. Alec had just sighed and let them overrule his plan.

As they separated his heart felt a little easier knowing he’d have his eyes on Magnus. Isabelle he trusted to hold her own in a fight, but Magnus not so much. This way he could protect Magnus if it came to it. It was a stupid impulse, one that might get him killed at some point, but Alec couldn’t help it, couldn't overrule his heart.

He shook his head, focusing back on _Morgenstern_ _Pharamceuticals_. The building looked the same as it had yesterday, and so did the zombie guard. The huge letters at the front leaped out at them as they circled around. The boys would sneak in there and look for Jocelyn on the ground floors. Isabelle would take Clary and Simon through the back and to the upper levels. If either of them was spotted it would be the group at the front entrance, so that was the way they planned it.

“So,” Magnus said. “Any last words before we go in? Anything in case we die?”

“We won’t die,” Jace said and scrambled down the building.

Alec set off after him, then looked back up at Magnus, still at the top of the building. “Seriously, it’s just bad luck to think like that. Come on.”

He did.

They kept to the shadows, watching the zombies that circled the building. There were no gaps between the guards, they had seen this the first day, but if they could silently dispose off one of them they would go through seamlessly. That was where Alec came into play.

He aimed two arrows, one at the guard's heart and one at his throat. Black blood dripped out of the wounds, the zombie going down quietly. They caught it as it fell and dragged it into the shadows of _Morgenstern_ _Pharmaceuticals_.

“Don’t you think the other zombies will notice?” Magnus asked.

Alec shrugged. It was too late now. “Only one way to find out.”

They went on.

Valentine had set up headquarters in a newly built construct of concrete, glass and steel that screamed money, which was both very good for breaking and entering and at the same time very bad. The good part was that only one out of four sides was made completely out of glass, so sneaking in the back would prove less of a problem. The bad part was that the one side that was glass wasn’t shuttered. It probably made for good security and they didn’t know who was up there keeping watch.

“On the count of three,” Alec announced, peering around the corner. He couldn’t see anyone. He counted down.

Jace rushed forward, knife held in front of him. Magnus followed, looking for enemies left and right. Alec made up the rear, an arrow notched and ready to be drawn. They slipped quietly through the front doors.

The lobby was a warm room, decorated with flowers and a selection of welcoming paintings at the walls. In the middle of the room was an empty reception with a blood stained carpet in front of it. Chairs and sofas hugged the walls, inviting potential customers and waiting business partners to rest a little.

Alec could hear his heart beating ten thousand miles per hour.

On both sides of the reception the wall gave way to hallways, one just a gaping black hole in the wall, the other a stylish glass door. Jace nodded toward the glass door. Alec gave his okay. They went through.

The hallway was lit, bright, unnatural fluorescent lights making it immediately less homely than the entrance. On the wall hung the painting of a ship surrounded by the calm sea. The water was red with blood.

“It looks like a massacre in here,” Magnus commented.

Dried blood painted the white walls red. The carpeted floor was stiff with it. Alec felt a little sick. There was a difference between spilling blood and seeing blood spilled.

Jace made a noise deep in his throat, peeling away some of it with his knife.

“Let’s go on,” Alec said. “This probably just means that we’re on the right way.”

Jace resumed his position at the front, muttering, “Or it means someone got brutally murdered right where we’re standing.”

Alec didn’t dignify that with an answer. He _knew_. It didn’t change a thing.

They passed two identical warped glass doors labeled _Blackwell_ and _Pangborn._ Beyond the offices the hallway split, continuing straight toward another office door and turning to the left. Jace peered around the corner cautiously, then sprinted up toward the door.

“Valentine.”

Alec nodded, moving toward the corner. There wouldn’t be much use in going through Valentine’s things. It wasn’t their mission.

“Wait.” Magnus held up a hand and caught up with Jace. “Since we’re already here we might as well try and get something incriminating. Something to hold him accountable for all of this.”

“And who’re you gonna take that too? Alicante is _lawless_.”

Magnus raised a challenging eyebrow. “The outside world?”

“The outside world doesn’t give a shit.” The truth hurt like a punch to the gut, but there was no point in denying it any longer.

“Five minutes.”

Alec was about to respond when Jace ripped the office door open. A low, guttural howl emitted from the inside, followed by a mass of rotten flesh and gleaming claws, staggering toward the entrance. Alec shot.

The zombie fell onto Jace, who lowered it gently to the floor. Alec spun around, trying to see something in the hallway beyond, but no other zombies appeared, and no one else seemed to have heard.

“Five minutes,” he said.

Magnus flashed him a grin. Alec could hear him opening drawers and rustling paper as he himself kept watch over the darkness. He played with the thought of Valentine imprisoned, hunted down and judged by a court of law. There was no comfort in that, but Alec thought that even if it wouldn’t bring back his family at least that of someone else might be spared. And it _would_ hurt Valentine, to be brought so low, maybe not the way Alec wanted him hurt but the way it had to be.

Somewhere a door banged.

“Magnus,” he warned.

“Wasn’t me,” Magnus said at the same time that Jace asked, “Upstairs?”

“No it was on this level.” He stepped further into the hallway, his fingers groping the wall for the light switch.

The overhead lights flickered on.

Alec stared.

The zombie stared back. Its pupils were dilated, too huge for it to see properly in this light, but it moved forward regardless.

Alec stared some more. Then he shifted his gaze to the one beside it, to the one beside it, to the one behind it, and the one behind that one, rows upon rows of Valentine’s undead army. He was dimly aware of Jace shouting behind him for Magnus to move, then for Alec to move. Jace’s hand was at the back of his shirt, dragging him away, and Alec unfroze.

He notched arrows as they stumbled back blindly, felling the front row to stop the others, yet the zombies kept coming. Alec dimly registered the transition back into the lobby. He heard himself yell “Out the door, now!”, but he couldn’t remember choosing the words. His hands moved on their own accord, bringing down zombies without order.

His back crashed into something soft. He turned to yell at Magnus. The words died on his tongue.

Alec stared.

The zombie stared back. Alec’s mind didn’t have time to think _screwed_ before it rewired and stopped thinking altogether.

He moved first, whiping out a knife and slashing the zombies throat. It staggered back into the next one, and both fell down. Alec threw the knife at the one behind them. A zombie tackled him from the side, but Alec saw it coming and sidestepped. He used its momentum to throw it into another one.

After that left and right became distant concepts. Up and down were the same. He rolled around the floor with the zombies, stabbed, kicked, punched, and bashed heads in. There wasn’t enough room to use his arrows the way they were meant to, so he improvised. Every movement brought a new splatter of red, coloring his hands, his face, his life. He was made of muscle memory, every fiber of his body alive with adrenaline. He used his dagger to pierce one zombie’s skull, then butted it into another’s temple. There was so much blood that there was no way none of it was Alec’s.

There was a flash of gold at the entrance area, and then he lost sight of his brother again. Alec searched for Magnus among the writhing bodies, knowing that the rational thing was to fight his way out, his family defying the laws of rationality.

Something grabbed Alec from behind, pinning his arms uselessly against his sides. He kicked, expecting the zombie to let go, but instead there was a yell of pain among the screeches of dying zombies. Something stung the sensitive skin of his neck. A hand came up to his mouth, pressing a stinking, wet cloth against it.

The world slowed down again. Alec tried to yell and squeeze out of his captor's arms. He tried moving with the new situation, using whoever was behind him to kick a zombie in the chest with both legs, then freeing himself with the new momentum, but somehow he didn’t get high enough. An ankle locked his leg in place. He tried biting but only got the cloth. He shifted his head and tried again, but the hand was firm and followed him.

He wanted to scream in frustration. They would have him. They _could_ have him. He just need to make sure-

His eyes found Magnus, sitting on a zombie, holding it down with one leg. There was a flicker of movement and a cry. Alec’s vision swam. He could feel the phantom needle still in his neck. He couldn’t move.

The hand let his mouth go and he could breathe again, but the oxygen didn’t do his body any good. He watched helplessly as someone very alive looking bent over Magnus’ writhing form on the floor. Alec forced himself to look away. The glass doors flashed coldly in the sunlight. It meant Jace had made it outside. It had to. Jace was gone. They didn’t have his brother, couldn't have.

The noise had ceased. At first Alec thought he couldn’t hear anything anymore, but then he heard footsteps, the shuffling ones of the undead. They were coming for him, for his family. He saw them descend on his mother, tearing at her hair and her face, skinning her alive as she screamed and flailed. He could hear Max’s high pitched scream as something ripped his arm off. His glasses crunched as some zombie stepped on them carelessly. His father’s frantic face, skin peeling away from his throat, knife between his ribs. _Get them away Alec, get them away._

And then there was Isabelle, struggling against his arms, screaming at him again and again, for their family, for him to let her help them. Isabelle telling him she hated him as he gagged for air.

No, that wasn’t right.

In the sea of zombies he saw a black mop of hair, made blacker with blood. Then the sea parted some more and he could see Magnus’s still body, eyes unseeing on the ceiling. His leg started twitching.

Then the zombies were everywhere again, descending on them in a wave of foul smelling death, a killing frenzy, burring Alec beneath it as he crashed to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahaha. I'm not sorry. It gets worse. I think. Judge for yourself.


	14. Chapter 14

Alec woke up to twin pools of darkness. Unrelenting, cold darkness, a void that was sucking him in and wouldn’t let him go once he was lost in it.

He blinked and it was just eyes again, the blackest he’d ever seen. A man stood over him, skin made of pale marble and mouth twisted into a cruel smile.

“Good morning, Alexander. I may say, Alexander, may I? I know you are old enough for people to call you Mr. Lightwood, but you are the same age as my daughter, so I hope you will forgive me for being so informal. But enough about that. How are you feeling, Alexander?”

Alec wasn’t feeling much, so he didn’t answer. He tried lifting his arm to flip the strange man off, simply because he felt like it was the thing to do, but he couldn’t move it. He couldn’t move so much as a finger. It added to the annoyance he was feeling at the man’s speech, together with disgust, and something else. Something was wrong. His chest hurt and he didn’t think it was a physical condition. He needed to think but his brain felt sluggish, like he hadn’t exercised it in a while.

“Oh, I see. I might have given you too much against the pain. I know it can be excruciating and I didn’t want you to wake up screaming. Let me dial it down a little.” The man’s voice was sweet but firm, with an edge to it that was only there if you were looking for it. A little like his father's voice. It was a politician’s voice.

But this man was doctor.

Alec didn’t know how he knew it, but he did. _Valentine_ , his mind supplied helpfully. _That’s Dr. Valentine Morgenstern. Clary’s father._

Then the pain set in.

Practicing martial arts since he was ten, Alec knew pain. He’d learned to inflict it and to endure it. When he was fourteen, he’d broken his little finger, finished the fight, and waited patiently for their mother to pick them up and bring him to the hospital, because the finger _was_ swelling. There had been something wrong with it, but to Alec the pain had been an inconvenience that he could ignore.

Now he screamed.

He didn’t want to give Valentine the satisfaction of making him scream, yet he couldn’t hold it inside. His body was burning up from the inside, every single branching nerve on fire, yelling at his brain to shut it down, shut down the consciousness of it, but his brain wouldn’t stop. Alec had read accounts of people passing out from pain, but his body wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. A part of him knew he needed to stay alert because of Valentine, that he needed to find a way to get out of here. He needed to find Magnus and escape.

 _Jocelyn_ , his mind reminded him.

Magnus first. He fled into that thought. He would free himself and go looking for Magnus. Valentine had probably cuffed him to a bed the same way he had Alec, and Alec would take the fire out of his veins and burn the building down with it so he could lift Magnus out of its ashes.

The thought drowned in the pain and disappeared.

“Oh, no, this won’t do,” Valentine said. His voice was cold and lifeless. “Let me just get you sedated again.”

Alec realized he must be talking to himself. He screamed, “NO!”

Valentine didn’t answer, but the pain didn’t stop, so he must have listened.

“Can you hear me Alexander? Just nod if you do.”

Valentine’s voice was ice, cutting through the fog in Alec’s fried brain, not a soothing chill but painful in a different way. Alec shifted all his attention to it, to cutting himself on the edges of it, voluntarily, instead of giving in to the fire in his bones that he couldn’t put out.

He nodded.

“You have to know, this isn’t how I imagined this would happen. In fact, I didn’t think I’d ever meet a Lightwood again. Your parents and I didn’t exactly part on good terms, you have to know. They took so much from me. Well....” he trailed off.

The words sent Alec reeling again, his mind wandering back to happier times, to his parents coming home from late shifts at the hospital, tired but happy, his mother hugging him, his father’s slightly disappointed face when Alec had told them he wasn’t going to be a doctor like them, not going to help people. He’d felt like he’d betrayed what his family stood for with his decision. Selfish. Lightwoods weren't selfish.

 _He’s just trying to confuse you,_ his father’s voice echoed in his head. _Focus on your opponent. Study them. Then strike._

Alec almost missed Valentine’s next words. “I am here with test subject A1-1. Initial injection is still working inside him. Is immune system seems to be naturally producing the RMD since there have been no further additions of it to his system. Unlike A3-1 he is responsive. Alexander, I would like to ask you a few questions, would that be okay?”

Alec blinked his eyes open for a second, seeing the picture of Valentine standing next to his bed with a recorder mirrored against his eyelids more than anything else. Everything was a little blurry. He clenched his mouth shut, the grinding of his teeth nothing compared to the new wave of pain that flooded through him. His chest was constricting, his lungs collapsing, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move the muscles that kept him alive.

“Alexander?”

Valentine. He needed to concentrate on that. Ignore his body, ignore the pain, ignore the fact that he was dying. Better to not remember his own death.

He nodded.

Valentine told the recorder, “Test subject is verbally unresponsive, but he can gesture. He just consented to an interview. Test subject is obviously in great pain. Alexander, can you feel anything beyond that?”

Test subject. The words stung, pricking his skin the way every other insult always had, but he savored it. He clung to them now, because it meant he was more than the pain, more than just a body burning alive. It meant when the test was over so would be the pain.

The tiny spark of hope died with the nerves that were struck down by the new surge of pain. Alec tried to stay still, to not cave in under the flames’ cruelty, but his body wasn’t his anymore. His legs twitched, trying to get away from him, from the fire. The cuffs clanking against the metal of the bed brought him back.

“Subject is not responding. Alexander, does that mean that you don’t?”

The thing was that Alec _could_ feel things beyond the fire, beyond the pain. His heart was still an independent muscle, not subject to the whims of the fire but reacting to the back of Alec’s mind, where most of him had retreated to. It didn’t stop the flames from imposing their will, though.

He nodded.

“Subject confirmed it as no. Thank you, Alexander. This has just made my other questions useless, but we can’t help that, can we?” The smile in Valentine’s voice was cold, like the rest of him. “Now, are you sure you don’t want me to let your mind rest while your body works for us?”

Alec managed to shake his head.

There were no footsteps, but a door opened and closed. When Valentine was gone, Alec forced his eyes open. The room, the room, the room. He needed to think about the room, not the hurt. He’d thought the times where he ignored his body were over, but he hadn’t forgotten how to do it.

He was in a hospital room in a hospital bed with metal railings all around. Both his legs were cuffed to it, as was his left hand. The right was limp at his side, injected with catheters and IVs. The room was plain and small, the bed shoved against the wall to his left. To the other side the room went on a little further, maybe with another bed. Alec turned his head to get a better view.

There _was_ another bed, its occupant wearing different clothes than the last time Alec had seen her. Her arms were bare, an IV tube snaking out of her wrist and to a bag with clear liquid above her head. Her eyes were closed, mouth curving peacefully, her red hair fanning out around the pillow.

Another wave of pain rocked through him, his veins curling inside him in a futile effort to deflect it. He felt dizzy, his eyes blurring. He closed them again.

He’d seen all he needed to see.

They’d failed. After all they’d gone through, they’d failed.

Jocelyn Fray was still in the clutches of her ex-husband, and so were her rescuers.


	15. Chapter 15

When Alec woke up, he vomited.

He leaned over the side of the bed out of instinct and emptied the meager contents of his stomach onto the floor. Or so he thought he had before he opened his eyes and saw that, while he hadn’t gotten anything on himself, he definitely had gotten something onto the sheets. His cuffed hand had only left him with so much room for movement.

Alec lay back down, ignoring the the taste of bile on his tongue and the vomit clinging to his chin.

The good news was that the fire had been reduced to a simmering. Also, his body was still there. He could move around if he wanted to, except he didn’t want to because he felt like he’d been training for two days straight. Just that the last time he’d had a weekend long workout session with Jace his body had been numb with pain.

Now he could feel every single nerve ending.

He cleared his throat. “Jocelyn? Can you hear me?”

She didn’t move and didn’t answer.

“Oh, what has he done to you?”

Alec wished he could go over there and check her pulse. As it was he could just stare at the soft curves of her body against the white sheets. She looked helpless and vulnerable, unconscious with her hand cuffed to the bed.

He imagined what it would be like if she was awake. Would they talk? They couldn’t free each other, but sharing the pain with another human being would help, wouldn’t it? Or would she just ignore him, call him a foolish boy for trying to rescue her?

He still remembered her wide eyes as she beheld him that day, his father’s name on her tongue.

In his head he started telling her about Clary, about her brave, hot-headed daughter with an iron will. He told her about her determination and how she’d drawn them all onto her quest, Simon and Jace coming willingly, and with them Isabelle, Alec, and Magnus. He told her about them too, about Simon’s weird quirks, Jace’s loyalty, Isabelle’s fierce love, Magnus’ wit. He also told her about his fears, that in his mind he saw a glass door flashing and hoped that Jace had escaped. He hoped the others hadn’t been captured like him.

And then he saw Magnus, again and again, on the floor among the bodies of zombies, dead or dying. No, he refused to believe that. If Magnus had died he’d known. There was no rational way he could have, but he refused to believe anything else. Not dead. Not dead. Not dead. Alec himself wasn’t dead even though he should be, so neither was Magnus.

At some point a nurse, a small demure woman without a name tag, came into the room to check on them. She carried a tray of food. Taking one look at the vomit stained sheets, she placed it far out of his reach. She pulled a bag of something brown from underneath Alec’s bedside table and connected it to his IV.

The food didn’t look good, but something about it made Alec angry. He said, “That’s how you gonna feed me now? Through a tube?”

The nurse’s eyes flitted to him for one terrified moment, then she watched her hands as they changed the sheets. He’d pissed on them too. Not that he cared much at this point.

“What’s your name?” he asked. His voice was raw and broken.

She hurriedly leaned over him to pull the sheets to the other side. Without a word she took the tray and left.

Alec kicked the metal railing.

In the afternoon, or Alec guessed it was afternoon, the room had no windows or clock to tell the time, Valentine came by again. 

He went to Jocelyn first, standing over her bed and stroking her hair, muttering in tones to low for Alec to hear. Then he kissed her forehead, once, carefully, and sat down next to Alec. 

They continued the interview from the previous day, Valentine asking about how Alec felt, making him describe the pain, the way certain parts of his body felt, if it was any different than he felt normally. At first Alec tried to look him straight in the eyes, challenging him, but Valentine wasn’t to be challenged, and so Alec became acquaintanced with the wall instead.

He tried to find out what exactly he was the test subject for. Valentine, however, was careful with his words, and so Alec wasn’t any wiser by the time that Valentine injected him with the unknown contents of a needle. He just knew that, whatever it was, he didn’t want it in him.

It was like oil that set off his feverish body. He was burning again.

Valentine tried asking him more questions, but Alec was too far gone, the flames breaking him apart piece by piece, until nothing was left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a short one. Things still haven't improved and won't for a few chapters. Or maybe a little. Depends on how you see it....


	16. Chapter 16

A sort of routine established itself. Alec would wake up and feel the bile rise in his throat. Since there was nothing in his stomach, he didn’t vomit but stayed still instead. He was getting progressively worse, his body feverish, burning up with a different kind of fire.

It was those moments, with his mouth dry and his lips cracked, his skin sweaty and boiling him on the inside, that he thought about death. Not that he necessarily wanted to die, it was just that death was an easier alternative. He would only have a few regrets should her really die.

After that moment had passed he talked to Jocelyn. Out loud.

Alec guessed he was slowly losing his mind, but there was no one around to care, so he continued. His voice had become cracked and hoarse. There was no one who answered him. He continued talking anyway. Continued chasing Valentine’s acidic words out with his own.

He told her about his family, at first the more recent memories of how they came here to rescue her, his time at the _Dumort_ , his time with Magnus, then about his parents and Max, about the happiness they’d had before the world ended, of summers spent swimming and climbing and exploring the city, of winters spent building snowmen and getting into fights and curling up under blankets with hot chocolate; he didn’t talk about their death.

Half of the time he felt like crying, even though it was nothing sad he talked about. He just wanted to let it out, wanted everything to end, the injections, the fever, the pain, wanted his body to be his again, wanted to be in control again. None of it happened. Alec didn’t have any tears left.

Around midday the nurse came around, checking on her patients. At some point she just gave up changing his sheets because Alec just kept and kept on pissing himself, and he agreed with her decision. They were treating him like an animal in every other way, so why not in this one too? Alec for one had stopped caring.

He had also stopped trying to get her to speak. He guessed it was easier for her to sleep at night if she pretended those weren't real people her boss tortured.

The afternoons belonged to Valentine, his recorder, and his needles. Alec had stopped trying to figure out what exactly he was injected. He guessed the zombie virus, except that he didn’t turn, so that couldn’t be it. He stopped cooperating, too.

It was the only act of rebellion accessible to him and the only thing he could still choose to do. What he'd chosen was to no longer answer more than Valentine's question. Yes, no, maybe a few syllables more. Valentine wouldn't get anything else from him. And he had to work for those short answers, draw them out of Alec, because Alec didn’t care that it took forever. He’d given up hope to ever escape this hellhole.

He told Jocelyn that too. If she’d been there she might have replied that there was still hope. That he needed to stay strong, for her, for Magnus, for himself. She wasn’t, and so the words were all his own. Alone and useless.

The only thing he hoped for now was that they hadn’t all been captured, that the others made it out, that they _stayed_ out. That they made it back to the _Dumort_ and now planned to leave the city behind for good.

The thought stung a little, that his siblings would actually abandon him, but he told himself that it was for their best. They’d be better off without him.

After weeks he believed it, too.

There was nothing to indicate what time it was, but it felt like an eternity to Alec. He thought he was getting better, his thoughts clearing, the flames not hurting as much anymore. The fever was receding too. Maybe he just got used to it, though.

Otherwise he wouldn’t hallucinate.

One quiet night, after too many days to count, the door opened, waking Alec. The flames had left his body aching and raw, and he wanted to yell at the intruder for interrupting the few moments of unconsciousness that his body granted him. He stopped short when the door opened further.

The lights in the room were on as always, and through the gap into the dark hallway slipped a young woman.

Alec blinked, making sure that she wasn’t a trick of the light. When he opened his eyes she was still there, utilitarian uniform and all. The jeeps driver. That explained it. No trick of light, but a trick of his mind.

The woman ignored him, her eyes fixed on Jocelyn as she quietly shut the door again. Her steps were light, trained military precision, just as he’d expected. She took Jocelyn's pulse, then passed her hand over her forehead.

“Jesus,” she said softly. She had a nicer voice than he’d imagined. “You’re alive. How are you still alive? _Why_ are you still alive?”

Alec couldn’t take it anymore. The woman’s presence dangled a piece of fatal hope in front of his starving heart and he silently cursed his brain. He reached out, sure that she’d vanish as soon as he passed through her.

His hand connected with the solid flesh of her elbow.

The woman screamed, loud and human and real. She turned, her wide eyes taking him all in, from his ragged clothes to the cuffs to the IVs in his arm.

“Jesus fuck!” she exclaimed. Then more quietly. “Jesus shit, you scared the living hell out of me. Shit. Fuck.”

She passed her hand over her mouth. Alec wanted to say something, anything to comfort her, but he suspected there was nothing to say in this kind of situation.

At last she spoke again, her words not meant for him. “This disgusting, motherfucking asshole liar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!!!! So, since I'm done writing and just have to go over the chapters to make sure everything's as i want it to be I decided to post _twice_ a week from now on (if I can manage. The next weeks will be stressful, so I might be late). And since the next chapters will be short and all have some sort of cliffhanger-y ending I figure you'll agree with my decision.


	17. Chapter 17

The woman paced the room, hands in her hair, over her face, straightening her uniform. She sat down on the edge of Jocelyn’s bed and hid her face in her hands again.

“It’s okay,” Alec said. He wasn’t good at consoling, at least not when it came to outsiders. And yet he couldn't stand seeing this stranger upset like this.

“No it’s not!” the woman shot him a venomous look. Then her face fell and shame flitted over her eyes.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “Yes it is. Me being stuck here isn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself for it.”

She started pacing again, her voice quiet, trying to reassure herself more than him. “In a way it is. If we’d known he had living people in here we would have intervened _earlier_. We would have made him stop. We could have _saved_ so many lives, and yet we didn’t. Because we were all too shocked, and then we didn’t know how to and now _look_. No, actually you don’t need to look. You know. Does it hurt?”

Nothing hurt, and he was confused. “Does what hurt?”

She gestured wildly, to him, the IVs, the cuffs. “Whatever he’s doing to you. That’s what this is, right? He’s doing something to you, something awful that we could have prevented but we thought...oh, god.”

The woman clamped her mouth shut, staring at the wall as shame welled up in her eyes again. Alec was overwhelmed with the need to make her feel better, to make sure she understood that it wasn't that bad, that she didn't need to be ashamed of her lack of action or pity him. There were people out there who had it worse. Alec alone was at fault for his situation.

“Sometimes. It’s better now. When he...when he started with the injections it hurt more.”

“Jesus,” she exclaimed again. “How long have you _been here_?”

Alec shrugged, dimly remembering sunlight glinting of a jeep roof. “Two weeks? Three? I lost count. How long has it been since you drove here?”

“Almost two weeks,” she said.

“There’s your answer.”

“Jesus.” She sat back down.

Alec smiled softly. She reminded him of Isabelle a little, kind, beautiful, and caring. “What’s your name?”

She looked up from where she was examining Jocelyn closer, almost shy. “Lydia. Colonel Lydia Branwell. What’s yours?”

“Alec Lightwood.” It felt surreal that his name should suddenly matter again.

Lydia went rigid. “Wait, Lightwood as in Dr. Robert Lightwood?”

Alec blinked. “That's my father, yes. How do you know him?”

“Shit. Fuck. This explains _so_ much. So goddamn much. Where are your parents? And your siblings? Wait, is this Jocelyn Fray?” She turned to look at the woman behind her again, taking some of the red hair and turning it between her fingers.

“Yes?” Alec’s stomach was turning again. “And my parents are dead. I don’t know about my siblings. If they’re not here I hope they are far, far away from this place. How do you know about my family?”

Lydia jumped up again, running a shaking hand over her braid. “Fuck. Shit. Okay, we need to get you out of here. He killed General Herondale so it will only be a matter of time before he comes looking for me. Can you walk?”

Alec met her gaze and forced her to keep his. “My parents, Lydia. How do you know about them?”

“There was a scandal a couple decades ago,” she said, her voice small. “When they had just left med school. Nothing big, something about unethical procedures. We just found out about it after Valentine contacted us and we did a background check. He's been affiliated with it, but according to the files your parent's, Valentine's wife Jocelyn and a certain Dr. Luke Garroway were responsible for the incident and then fired from Morgenstern Pharmaceuticals.”

Alec tried reconciling the new information with the picture he had of his parents and couldn't.

“I'm sorry,” Lydia said. “I really am. But now we have to get out of here, okay? Can we do that? Can you walk?”

Alec focused on her again, showing his other thoughts aside. He tried to lift his legs and was cut short by the cuffs. “I don’t know.”

Lydia was energetic now, wheels turning behind her eyes as she scoured the room for something to break the locks with, a plan forming in her mind. It was contagious.

“Alright, this will hurt a little, but I have to rip them out anyway. I’m sorry.” She ripped the IVs out of his arms before she was done speaking. Alec hissed and grabbed the railing.

Lydia used the IV needle to uncuff him, then did the same to Jocelyn as Alec sat up slowly. His head spun, colors and light dancing across his vision as he blinked. When Lydia saw the position he was in, she put supportive hands on his shoulder. “Careful. Don’t rush, we still have time.”

“We don’t,” Alec said, the words stumbling out of his mouth and into his heart, weighing it down like stones. For a second he felt guilty for only thinking about himself, then accepted the responsibility that came with his new found freedom. “We need to make sure there's no one else is down here. And then we need to get Magnus!”

“Alec, okay, calm down. We’ll- no- wait- don’t-”

It was too late. He’d already slid from the bed, his feet landing with a decisive thump that his knees didn’t agree with. They buckled and he fell onto Lydia. She barely held him upright.

“It’s okay,” he panted into her shoulder as she lowered him on the bed again. “I just...give me a minute.”

“A minute? Alec, you haven’t moved your legs for _weeks_.”

He gave her what he hoped was an annoyed and slightly angry look. “I _moved_ my legs. I just didn’t stand on them. Give me a minute.”

Lydia groaned, patting his back before going to attend to Jocelyn.

Alec looked at his hands, bunching the dirty sheets between them. He could do this. He had no other choice. Sliding off the bed again he held onto the bed for support. His knees gave in under his weight, but he held on, righting them. Forcing them to stay put. _Stamina,_ his trainers voice echoed through his head _, isn’t just your physical limitations, but also how willing you are to push them. You can only run so fast if you’re willing to make yourself run so fast._ Alec didn’t need to run. Just stand, for now. And then walk. Slowly. Out of here.

“Great,” Lyida said. He could detect a trace of sarcasm in her words. “Do we need to take the bed with us?”

Alec shook his head, willing his legs to move. One foot in front of the other. Slowly. Willing his knees to obey, his body to obey. His shoulder found the wall, and, hugging it, he stopped to smile at Lydia.

She smiled back, a pained, horrified expression. Jocelyn hung over her back, one arm draped over Lydia’s shoulder, as the other woman held her upright.

“You go ahead,” he said. “I’ll follow. Have you seen any other patients?”

“Yours was the last room in a long hallway of rooms. I thought this one was the best to hide because I’d hear it when he came looking, hear him open the doors and stuff.”

“And then you’d escape _how_?”

Lydia dragged Jocelyn toward the door. It brought Alec some relief to see that she wasn’t much faster than him. “I hadn’t thought that far. There is no staircase in this one, but I think there’s one across the hall, so I guess we should leave through there?”

He followed, snail’s pace. “And why didn’t you go there in the first place?”

“I didn’t want to turn around once I saw there was no escape this way. I just-I guess-” she put her hand on the door handle. “I don't know. I...was afraid, I guess? I’m glad I didn't though.”

Alec stumbled, caught himself at the wall, and stood quivering. “Me too.”

She pushed the door open, baring a dark and desolate hallway, as far as they could see. Identical, plain doors lined the lengths of it. Alec took a deep breath. They stepped through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was probably easy to guess. It is, indeed, Lydia. Because I love her a lot. Also I have as much knowledge about military as I have about biology, so yeah, idk about the hierarchy. Doesn't matter either, I guess.


	18. Chapter 18

Alec decided that movies were no standards to go by, because in a movie an alarm system would have started blaring as soon as they stepped through the door. Emergency lights would have flashed, bathing the hallway in red, marking danger and making the audience hold their breath. In reality it was silence. Somehow that made it worse. There was no noise except for their own footsteps and labored breathing. There was no indication that anyone had noticed them leaving.

They opened door after door and were still alone.

Alec remembered the zombie in Valentine's office, jumping out at them the moment Jace opened the door, and it seemed wrong that all they should find behind these other doors was more darkness. Cold, silent, empty darkness.

They went on.

His legs screamed at him, asking him to stop, take a break. He couldn’t. He started chanting their names in his head. _Max. Isabelle. Jace. Clary. Jocelyn. Catarina._ And over and over again: _Magnus._

He had to be here somewhere. He had to be.

The unwanted picture of the last time he’d seen Magnus flitted through his head, Magnus’ body, still on the floor. No, his leg had twitched. He was alive, had to be alive, needed to be alive.

They reached the end of the hallway.

“The stairs are that way,” Lydia whispered, pointing with her free hand. They were at an intersection, their hallway splitting into three others. A green EXIT sign glowed above her head, illuminating the scene ghastly.

Not dead.

“Alec, are you coming?”

She’d already stepped into the hallway the EXIT sign was pointing to. It was easy, really. Just follow the emergency signs. Don’t get spotted. Be free. See his siblings again. The people from the Dumort.

Not dead. Not dead.

“No,” Alec said. “Magnus-I can’t just leave him here, Lydia. He _has_ to be here somewhere.”

It was stupid, really. He couldn’t even walk properly. He should go, get better, come back, and break Magnus out.

_But what will Valentine have done to him in that time?_

Lydia stared at him for one long second. She readjusted Jocelyn. Her brows were pinched, her mouth a tight line. Her eyes full of compassion.

“Alec, who is Magnus?”

He blinked, once, twice, unsure how to answer the question. Who _was_ Magnus? A friend. Someone worth saving. Family. His boyfriend?

Not dead.

“Alec, I don't know what Valentine has done-”

“You think I'm making Magnus up.”

It wasn't an accusation, nor was it a question. She thought he was hallucinating, was remembering things wrong, that Valentine had messed with his head somehow. And now, thinking about it, Alec realized he might have. Maybe this whole escape was just a dream, a hallucination, a way of his mind to cope with what was really happening.

He leaned back against the wall and sighed. He couldn't afford to think like this.

“Magnus is real, Lydia, and he's here somewhere, has to be. He has to be alive because I-because I-I don't know how he couldn't be, alright? He's my boyfriend. Sort of. Anyway, we went here to rescue Jocelyn because there's no way Clary wouldn't do that once she knew her mother was still alive. We went in and got caught, Jace escaped, I think, and Magnus was...hurt.”

Lydia's look turned even more pitying than before, and Alec felt angry. He didn't need her pity. He didn't want her pity. He was hurting and he wanted to get out. Get Magnus and get out.

“You go, Lydia. Take Jocelyn and get her out of here. Get her to Clary. They’re...they’re out there. They have to have made it outside. Get her to them, tell them I said they should leave the city for good. Tell them I love them. Tell them I’ll be fine.”

Lie lie lie.

Not dead.

Lydia’s eyes gleamed in the dim light. Tears, he realized. She was crying because of him. This woman he knew for an hour was crying because of him, _for_ him, and Alec had to take a deep breath willing the urge to tear something apart to dissipate. He turned away, assessing the hallways instead. The one farthest from the exit should do it.

“You're in no condition to go looking for him. To sneak around the building, looking for him in every nook and cranny,” Lydia said, stepping back to his side.

The words slipped under his skin, worse than any of Valentine’s injections.

His next words were a surprise but he knew he meant them the moment they were out there. His anger made them true. “Then I won’t. I’ll go straight to Valentine and make him tell me.”

Lydia gave a soft, terrified gasp. She readjusted Jocelyn again. “No you don't. Alec I've been mostly everywhere, so, if I haven't found him yet that means he has to be somewhere I haven't been yet. We'll just go there.”

Alec shook his head. “No, Lydia, you don’t get it. You need to get Jocelyn out, not drag her around where Valentine could find her. She’s all that matters, all that ever mattered. We meant to rescue her, as long as we still manage that it’s going to be fine.”

“No, _you_ don’t get it,” Lydia countered, matching the steel in his voice with her own. “I’m not letting you go there alone. _Jocelyn_ will be fine, because _we_ won't be caught. We'll find Magnus and get out. Simple as that.”

Alec sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wished he could slide to the floor and think this through completely, every possible outcome. But then he’d never get up again.

He looked down at Lydia, at the stony determination in her eyes, and sighed. “Fine. _Fine._ ”

Lydia clapped him on the shoulder. “Good,” she whispered. “Now let’s go rescue this Magnus-Person. This way.”

Alec nodded, following her lead. His heart beat faster as they went along the corridor, his legs suddenly quiet and enduring. It wouldn't be long now, couldn't be.

He gulped. He’d faced bullies in the school yard and zombies in the streets of Alicante, he’d come out to his parents and made a speech in front of his class as to why equal rights for all people were important, but somehow it all seemed insignificant in the face of what was looming ahead. None of it had been as important.

“Do you like him?” Lydia asked in front of him. Alec understood her need to fill the silence.

“A lot.”

“Sounds like a boyfriend to me,” she said, huffing out a small laugh. He felt weirdly glad about her presence. Glad that he didn’t have to do this alone after all.

They stepped around the corner together and almost into a door.

Alec blinked, and Lydia readjusted Jocelyn. _This is odd_ , Alec's brain supplied helpfully as he reached for the door knob, _you shouldn't go in there just because Lydia said she hasn't been in this part._

They went through.

The room beyond was dim, illuminated only by a few blinking lights in the corner. Alec could make out machinery and a table. Lydia hit the light switch. There were several pieces of high-end scientific equipment that Alec couldn’t name and didn’t care to. There was also a bed, and cuffed to it was a familiar figure.

“Is that-”

Alec didn’t let Lydia finish before throwing himself across the room. He stumbled and almost fell in the process, but he didn’t care. Magnus was here, in the room with him, not yet safe but so close.

Magnus looked different, his hair greasy and unkempt, his cheeks drawn out and hollow. There were dark circles under his eyes, which flitted restlessly behind his lids. Fragile, bony hands lay motionless by his side, IVs running out of one slender wrist like tethers that kept this ghost from floating away from this world. For the first time Alec realized that _he_ must look like that too, but he pushed that thought aside.

“Magnus,” he whispered.

Magnus eyes stopped flitting. They didn’t open.

“Lydia, get his IVs. We need to uncuff him.” He took Magnus hand in his own. “Magnus, hey.”

Lydia pushed Jocelyn into the chair by the bed, then leaned over their joint hands. It looked painful as she ripped the needles out one by one. Alec’s wrist began throbbing with the phantom pain of it. Magnus' hand gripped his.

He looked up to find Magnus staring at him from under drooping eyelids.

“Alec?” he croaked out. He didn’t have much of a voice anymore, but what was left was colored in disbelieve.

Alec felt anger rising up again, boiling in his stomach. He remembered the first time they’d met, how awful he had felt but how the mere sound of Magnus'voice had eased his pain a little. Magnus had meant he wasn't alone anymore, had meant Alec would survive, because Magnus had been strong, tireless, energetic, _alive._

Valentine had taken that from him. Valentine had reduced Magnus to a skeleton, a ghost, barely hanging on. Alec wanted to find him and make him pay. He wanted to burn this place and everything it meant down, and he knew the anger flaring inside him would be enough to do it.

He pressed Magnus' knuckles to his mouth. “I’m here, it’s me.”

Magnus took a long, shuddering breath. There were no tears in his eyes, and Alec understood. There had to be another time for this, and he would have to be the one to make sure there was. Magnus' other hand, now free, tugged at his elbow, a silent request.

Alec leaned forward carefully, placing one hand next to Magnus’ head while the other cupped his cheek. Their kiss was one of reassurance, cold, broken lips pressing against each other desperately, wanting each others breath simply to know that there _was_ breath. Magnus’ hands knotted in his shirt, not enough strength left to dig into Alec’s shoulder.

They stayed close even after they separated, Alec slipping his arm around Magnus’ back to help him up.

“I feel like I’m dying,” Magnus rasped into his ear.

“You’re not,” Alec said, as if his determination alone would make it true, gripping him tighter, making sure Magnus wouldn’t slip out of his arms as he slowly lifted him. “You’re not dying. I won’t let you.”

“You gonna fight death for me?”

Alec made sure that Magnus saw him looking, their eyes too close to make out colors. He knew that Magnus would feel the breath of his words on his mouth because he’d felt Magnus’. “Yes.”

Magnus smiled. His lip split and started to bleed. He smiled wider.

“But I need your help with that,” Alec amended, gesturing to their position. Magnus nodded, clinging to Alec’s shoulder with both of his arms so Alec could pull him off the bed. Magnus hissed in pain as his foot connected with the floor, leaning heavily on Alec as Alec’s other arm went around to hold him, and gave Alec'slegs reason to betray them. He had to let go of Magnus with one hand to grab the bed.

Somehow they were still standing.

Alec looked down at Magnus' foot, wrapped in a cast.

“It's broken?” Magnus whispered.

“Do you need help?” Lydia asked. She’d already draped Jocelyn across her shoulders again and assessed them with shuttered eyes.

Magnus eyed the two women suspiciously.

“Magnus, this is Lydia. She’s gonna help us get out of here. We’re going home,” Alec said, to Magnus, to Lydia, to Jocelyn, to himself. The words felt traitorous on his tongue.

“Home,” Magnus echoed.

Alec nodded, dragging them forward. Lydia went ahead, propping the door open with her foot.

“I suppose I ought to thank you,” a familiar voice drawled behind them.

  



	19. Chapter 19

Valentine lounged in a doorway in the middle of the wall. Alec blinked. Valentine lounged in a doorway in the middle of the wall. He blinked again. Valentine was still there.

How could he have missed a _door_?

Next to him Magnus took a pained breath.

Oh.

The door behind them fell shut.

Alec closed his eyes. Lydia inhaled sharply, Magnus’ hand feebly grasped at his shirt, and Valentine chuckled. He opened them again.

“Alexander,” Valentine said, stepping forward. “I’m glad to see you’re well enough to get out of bed. Though, as your doctor I have to say I would recommend you a couple of days bed rest still. As a scientist, however, I’m not complaining. You solved a lot of my problems. Your friend is quite the heavy sleeper, did you know? I almost thought he wouldn’t make it. A shame, really, since I don’t even know his name.”

Alec shifted his grip on Magnus, squeezing his side a little. _Don’t tell him._

Magnus silently laid his head on Alec’s shoulder. If it hadn’t been for Magnus supporting part of his own weight, Alec might have thought he’d passed out again. He didn’t even want to know what Valentine had done to him. Had it been worse than what he'd done to Alec? It looked like it.

“We’re leaving,” Lydia said. Her voice was a bowstring pulled too tight, ready to snap in her own face and leave angry red marks.

Valentine didn’t move. He still regarded them with a calculating, almost bored stare. “No you’re not.”

Lydia swallowed hard. “Yes, yes we are. We’re leaving. Right out this door, we’re going.”

“No.”

Alec adjusted the way Magnus was draped over him again, then turned a little toward the door.

“I pegged you for smarter than this, Alexander. But even though genetics would suggest otherwise you seem to be nothing like your parents.”

Magnus sighed, a long, soft sound, resonating in Alec’s bones, because he too wanted to sigh. And scream. And break his hands on the hard marble of Valentine’s face.

He turned back.

“I knew you wouldn’t just walk away,” Valentine said, his voice grinning broader than his lips. “Your mother was too curious for her own good, too. Nosy little Maryse, oh, how I miss those times. She was excellent in her field of study, did you know? Always asking why, why, why. I made so much progress while your parents were working with me.....and then Maryse had you. _I’m sorry, Val. We’ll be a family, Val. We need more flexible hours, a perspective, a real job. Where we can do actual good_ now, _not in a few years_.” Valentine snorted. “As if this _wasn’t_ a real job. Of course I couldn't just let them treat me like that, so I fired them. You ruined quite a lot for me, Alexander.”

With the room this quiet, Alec could hear Magnus heart beating, fast and irregular, like his own, like Lydia’s, so like those of his siblings. When they’d all been younger, curled up in the same bed for a sleepover, Alec had used to listen to his sibling’s heartbeats until he had fallen asleep. There was something calming in the mere existence of them, in knowing he wasn't alone, that shushed his mind and focused the world around him.

He said, “So you took me as repayment? Used their son as a test subject to get back at them? _Because you felt like they_ owed _you something?_ THEY’RE DEAD. THERE’S NO ONE TO GET BACK AT BECAUSE THEY’RE _DEAD._ DEAD BECAUSE OF _YOUR_ ZOMBIES!”

Valentine blanched for a second, his confidence shattered for one fleeting moment, before he regained posture, smiling coldly. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s hard to find willing and able participants for trials like these. I assumed that you would be, since your parents already did the first step when they vaccinated you when you were still a toddler. Of course, the vaccine was just in a trial stadium back then, but the new version isn’t that much different from the last one, so I decided to give it a...shot.”

“Why did you have a vaccine against a zombie virus eighteen years ago?” Alec asked.

Magnus whispered, “Put me down, please.”

“No.”

“Please, Alec. My leg hurts, you can barely stand yourself. Let me sit down.”

Alec grimaced but maneuvered them around, putting his back to Valentine. When Magnus was seated, he turned back. Valentine stood where he had the whole time. Lydia looked positively livid.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Alec prompted again.

Valentine was still, content to let Magnus explain. “He doesn’t mean a vaccine for the virus. He means one for demon pox. This is what this is still about, isn’t it? After all this time? You’re trying to recreate the disease so you’ll have a faster way of testing your antidote.”

Valentine’s smile turned a little icier. “How smart your friend is, Alexander. Does he have an interest in Medicine? Neurobiology perhaps? I could get him a scholarship once all of this is done. You’ll just have to let me finish these test runs and the world is ours for the taking.”

“Granted we survive this,” Alec answered for them both. It meant _no._ Magnus squeezed his hand.

“The disease only affects males. So what do you need Jocelyn for?” Lydia asked. Her voice was quivering.

“Jocelyn is one of the best Neurologists in this world,” Valentine said, as if it explained everything. At their blank faces he sighed and crossed his arms behind his back. Alec felt oddly thrown off, seeing his father’s lecturing posture on the man that had killed him.

“Do you ignorant children even realize what I’m doing here? What I could have accomplished over the years if my friends and colleagues hadn’t abandoned me? With Jocelyn at my side I could have found a cure for demon pox _years_ ago. I could have saved millions of lives. Instead she chose to leave me for my best friend, hiding herself _and_ our daughter from me!”

Clary. He knew about Clary. How? Were they here too? Her and Isabelle and Simon? Alec swallowed, his brain already tumbling over itself with plans. He needed more time. He need to search every nook and cranny of this building. He need to-

“You have a daughter?!” Lydia seemed outraged now.

“Clarissa,” Valentine answered calmly. “She doesn’t have any of her mother’s talent, unfortunately. An artist that one, so completely useless to my purposes. It would have been nice to meet my child, however, although I fear she is dead now.”

Alec could hear the plastic crack beneath his hand, Magnus conveniently covering up what damage he was doing to the back of the chair. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the world to enable him to ever breathe again.

“It’s a shame, really, to be the murderer of my only child, but it is Jocelyn’s fault. If she hadn’t hidden Clarissa I would have been able to shelter her. Now she is a heap of clean picked bones, just like Alexander’s parents. Are you alright, Alexander?”

It was too much. Alec wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, but laughing and crying and yelling all seemed good options at the moment. They had made it outside. Maybe just they had been lucky, maybe an alarm had gone of that he hadn’t noticed in his frenzy. Important was that they were safe. Isabelle was safe.

He forced a smile onto his face.

“Perfectly fine,” he answered. He was exhausted and raw and wanted to curl up in a corner and weep over this small victory, but he’d never felt better.

Valentine smiled back. “Wonderful. Then we should get back to our testing, shouldn’t we? You two are entirely too few to get me reliable results, but they will do to move investors to do what poor General Herondale couldn’t deliver.”

“General Herondale didn’t promise to deliver you anything!” Lydia shot back. “And you will let us go, because we’ll have this building surrounded and destroy _everything_ you ever built here if you don’t.”

“ _Surrounded_?” Valentine echoed, and if Alec hadn’t known better it he sounded amused. “By whom? The people who that golden haired friend of Alexander’s informed? Last time I saw _him_ he was running and running, never to come back.” He turned to Alec. “You inspire as much loyalty as your father, I see.”

Alec knew the comment ought to sting, but he couldn’t hold the laugh in. This was too good. This was the best day in his life. Jace and Isabelle, both safe, far away from danger. Running never to come back. Lydia flitted him a nervous look.

His cheeks hurt from grinning like a maniac. Safe. Safe _,_ they were _safe._

“Alec,” Magnus sighed, his head lolling against Alec's side.

Alec knelt down at the same time that Valentine stepped forward, reaching out to them, saying “This is happening because you’re messing with my work.”

Magnus’ eyes fluttered shut, his pulse against Alec’s fingertips the only indicator of life. And that might as well have been his own.

“NO!” Lydia shouted.

Valentine stopped dead in his tracks, turning around to face her. She was still standing where she’d been before, but now Jocelyn was in front of her, her slack body slumped against Lydia, who was pressing something thin and metallic to Jocelyn’s throat. Her eyes only rested on Alec for one troublesome moment.

“Put that down,” Valentine said, voice straining to remain in control.

“No,” Lydia repeated, hardening her grip on the syringe. “We’re leaving, or I kill her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is great, isn't it?


	20. Chapter 20

Alec swallowed hard, the look Lydia had given him the only thing keeping him from puking. He felt sick. He felt dirty. He felt like curling up inside his own skin and dying.

The day his parents had died he’d slept fitfully, aware of Jace sitting by the remains of the fire, alone and in silence, grieving in his own way. Isabelle had slept in his arms, curled up in the warmth and familiarity of her big brother. Alec himself hadn’t been able to comfort either of them, too numb, too exhausted, remembering the blood on his hands too vividly to do much beside staring ahead blindly. He’d thought it had been the worst day of his life back then.

This day was speeding up to make the last meters beyond it.

Magnus breath hitched dangerously.

“No, no, Magnus, no,” Alec whispered at the same time that Valentine bellowed, “Get him to the bed, damn it. There’s a  _ reason _ people are hooked up to IV’s you ignorant-”

“ _ Don’t _ you move,” Lydia interrupted. “Alec, you stay.”

“No, Alexander, get him to the bed. He’s going to-”

“ _ Stay _ .”

“Colonel, I’m warning you, this man will  _ die _ if you don’t let me proceed.”

Alec looked from Lydia, shakingly holding a syringe to Jocelyn’s throat, to Valentine, his hands raised in a mocking rendering of defeat. He kept his eyes on Valentine.

“This is all your fault,” he told him. “All of it. Is. Your. Fault. If you hadn’t done whatever you’ve done to us he wouldn’t be like this!”

There was no point in accusing Valentine like this. Valentine was probably right, he needed to move, to do  _ something _ to help Magnus, but his brain had problems coming up with a plan. He just knew he didn’t want to do whatever Valentine told him to do, so he resorted to petty, childish accusations.  _ Your fault. _

“ _ Alexander _ .” Valentine’s voice sounded appalled.

“We’re leaving,” Lydia said to no one in particular.

“ _ Die _ ,” Valentine repeated. “Magnus will  _ die _ if you leave now.”

“He won't,” Lydia shot back. “We're getting him to our Doc and he'll be fine.”

“Your army doctor doesn't know the first thing about what is going on in this boy's body. He's going to kill him if Magnus even makes it that far.”

The back of the chair creaked precariously, then broke. “SHUT UP!”

All eyes were on him, but Alec couldn’t look anyone in the eye. He looked at his shoes. He looked at his hand in Magnus’. He looked at Magnus’ shoulder, his still face.

He couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. It wasn’t that he was irrevocably in love with Magnus, dying with the other’s death. Alec was pretty sure he would survive losing Magnus somehow, even if he couldn’t picture it. The thing was that Magnus made him happy and Alec wasn’t ready to lose that yet. To lose the possibilities a shared future might hold.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck. _ ”

Valentine’s voice was a honeyed razor. “You do realize that even if you forced your way out of here, I would send an army of zombies after you? You think you’re being clever with that little syringe of yours, Colonel, but I still have the upper hand here. You will die, all of you, just like General Herondale.”

Alec took the shattered part of the chair and flung it into a corner. Lydia had taken the syringe from Jocelyn’s throat. She still clutched it like her life depended on it, but this time it was herself she was most likely to hurt.

“Lydia, why are you here? Why didn’t the military get involved with this earlier? Did you support him?”

“No, no, we didn’t-we were-we-”

“The truth, Lydia. Tell me the truth!”

Magnus moaned.

“No! That’s the truth, Alec. We didn’t know. We thought Dr. Morgenstern was a victim like everybody else. We didn’t even know there was still someone in the city until he contacted us. Consul Penhallow declared a state of emergency as soon as the outbreak reached city limits and said we should be ready for anything. Then nothing happened for weeks and we thought you were all dead. When Valentine contacted us he claimed he'd only now managed to get communication going again. General Herondale and I went in to pick him up. We only realized something was wrong when- when-”

She broke off sobbing. Alec could fill the story out himself. When they’d met the zombie guard they’d known something was wrong, but by then it had been too late and Valentine had welcomed them, king in his castle, and they had had no other choice but comply. Then he’d killed the General.

“How did you get away? How did you get to Jocelyn and me?”

“After he killed the-her. After he killed her he tried to convince me to join him. I guess...I guess he thought I was younger and more naive. I let him show me around, let him believe I might be, because I was too-too shocked to do anything. So I let him do it. But he-he didn’t show me everything, so I thought-I thought that if I could get whatever he was hiding and get  _ out,  _ then maybe Imogen's death wasn’t for nothing, you know? Then maybe there was a purpose behind it all.”

He remembered her face now when she'd found Jocelyn. Alec held her gaze for a moment, ignoring Valentine, ignoring the syringe in her hand, her death threats only minutes earlier. “You’re very brave.”

Lydia nodded. Her fists relaxed.

Magnus moaned again.

“Touching.”

The syringe slipped out of her grasp and to the floor.

Valentine lunged for Lydia.

Alec yelled in warning, but his attention was diverted when Magnus woke up and vomited.

Lydia screamed something. They scuffled.

Alec kept his eyes on Magnus, his hands stroking reassuringly over Magnus’ back.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” he kept whispering, not sure Magnus could hear him over the frenzy.

A shudder passed through Magnus, and Alec held on tighter. Magnus leaned in. He shuddered. Alec hugged him closer, pulling Magnus’ head onto his shoulder. He was still shuddering as Alec stroked his back.

“Let go of me, you asshole!” Lydia yelled.

Magnus groaned.

Alec forced himself to look up.

Valentine was pinning Lydia to the floor, knee on her chest, one hand holding hers up, the other around her throat. Jocelyn was standing by the bedside table, holding herself upright with it, staring her ex-husband down. When she spoke, her voice was raw and cracked by disuse.

“Let her go, asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm early because otherwise I won't have time. This is also really short. Next chapter is longer again, but it just didn't feel right to squeeze all that's going to happen next chapter in this one.


	21. Chapter 21

Valentine went rigid. He was still an oppressive weight on top of Lydia, holding her against the floor, but he just seemed heavy now. Like a marble statue. His dark eyes became darker as he took in his ex-wife, standing over him out of sheer force of will.

She was still clutching the bedside table, her knuckles white, her hair standing up whichever way, like a wild beast. Her face was feral too, and the only reason she looked still human, Alec thought, was because she wasn’t baring her teeth.

Magnus vomited.

Everyone’s attention went to them, and when they had decided that neither of them was going to die in the next few minutes, they turned back to each other.

Alec wanted to scream in frustration. Instead he stroked Magnus’ back, whispering, “We’ll get you out of here.”

It was a lie as blatantly as he had ever told one. The decision, he realized, was out of his hands. He was no longer in control. Before Jocelyn had woken up, before Lydia had dropped the syringe, all eyes had been on him, had asked him to decide.

He had waited too long, and now someone else would decide for him.

Somehow that was worse.

Magnus chuckled dryly.

“Don’t do that,” Alec responded. “We’ll get out of here. _You_ ’ll get out of here. Alive. Even if I have to carry you.”

“You can barely carry yourself,” Magnus said. His voice sounded like he was talking from very far away.

“Good thing you weigh less than me now. Hey, no, no, Magnus, stay with me. Right here, okay? That’s good,” he adjusted the way Magnus was leaning against him. “Just listen to me, okay? Just hum, alright? We’ll get through this.”

“Mmh.”

“-ow is that my fault?” Valentine was saying on the other side of the room.

“ _How?_ ” Jocelyn sounded incredulous. “How it was your fault? You were never there. Our son died, and all you did was _hide_ in your laboratory, cooking up something monstrous like the Frankenstein you are, while your wife- your _wife_ , you get me?- while your _wife_ was home. Alone. Needing you. Needing your support but who-”

“Cat’s gonna kill me,” Alec told Magnus, forcing himself to tune out the others. “I promised her to get you back in one piece, but now you’re two pieces.”

“Mmh.”

“Bitch,” Valentine yelled.

“You know what I’m gonna do after Cat kills me though? I’m gonna get ice cream. I’m gonna walk to Germany and get ice cream.”

A scream drowned out Magnus’ reply.

Alec looked up to see Lydia grappling with Valentine, throwing herself against him with all her weight, but he evaded her, shoving his elbow into her back. She screamed again. They moved too fast for Alec’s eyes to follow, rolling around on the floor and throwing each other into walls, but they ended up standing a few feet from each other, Lydia doubled over and panting while Valentine looked as regal and composed as ever.

“Give it up, Colonel,” he crooned.

“What kind of ice cream?” Magnus whispered.

“Pistachio,” Alec answered, concentrating on their joined hands, on rubbing warmth back into Magnus’ cold fingers. “It was Max’s favorite. When I got my license I picked him up from school and we drove to get it for everyone.”

A crash. Another scream. Gurgling.

Sobbing.

Lydia was covering her mouth, hugging herself. There were no tears in her eyes, but she was the one sobbing. Jocelyn stared at the scene in shocked apathy, her mouth wide open and soundless. She had been the one to scream. When she fell, there was barely enough time for Lydia to catch her.

Magnus vomited again.

Alec felt a little sick himself. Lydia’s hands holding up Jocelyn were clean, yet he could see the blood on them, dripping from them in long, steady streams.

Instead of coating Lydia’s hands red it stained the carpet, pooling on the floor like an endless, crimson sea. Valentine lay in the middle of it like a wrecked ship, his face smushed against the vastness of it, eyes glassy and unseeing while blood gushed happily out of his neck. The scalpel in his neck grinned wickedly. _You’re next_ , it seemed to say, except that the rational part of Alec knew he wouldn’t be.

He swallowed hard, forcing down the panicked scream that was trying to make it past his throat. Lydia was no cold blooded murderer. It was just a dead body.

“The-The jeep’s in the garage. He’s got a garage in the back, that’s where the jeep is.”

Alec nodded dumbly. His body wouldn’t move, so he tried it with short, articulate commands. Get up. Step. Another step. Get Magnus. Leave.

Magnus gagged, apparently bereft of anything to actually throw up.

Lydia draped Jocelyn more securely over her shoulders, her expression speaking for itself.

Alec choked out his next words. “Give us a moment.”

She did.

Alec turned to Magnus. He’d stopped gagging, a small improvement of the situation.

“Hey,” he said softly, rubbing Magnus’ arms and shoulders. “Hey, you think you can walk?”

“Mmmh.”

Alec leaned his forehead against Magnus’, humming softly. Rubbing warmth back into Magnus. His heart was trying to leap out of his chest. The metallic odor of blood clung to the air, and Alec felt as if the puddle on the floor would soon reach his shoes and stain him, irrevocably, for ever.

“Hey, Magnus, hey. We need to get going.”

Magnus hummed again. His eyes, too close for Alec to see them properly, were wide and green. When he spoke, he mumbled. “Where?”

Alec kissed his temple. “Home. We’re going home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's leave this on a short and happy note...oh, wait, there's still one chapter left. Hahahahaha


	22. Epilogue

Alec shifted in bed, his sleepy mind blasting awake when the realization hit: He’d become used to this.

Not that there was anything about a warm, comfortable bed that one couldn’t get used to, but Alec hadn’t thought it would happen this quickly. Hadn’t thought Magnus would happen this quickly. His heart was pumping relentlessly, yelling at his body to wake up, wake up, wake up, the sun is shining this is going to be a good day. On good days his heart sounded like Max.

Alec wriggled out of the cocoon of heat and Magnus to throw his legs over the edge of the bed. The hand that was barely holding onto his side gripped tighter.

“Nommh.”

“I’m just going for a run,” Alec told him.

The hand let go of his side and slid over his bare stomach instead.

“’don’t think so.”

Alec crawled back into bed. He had the rest of his lives to go for runs.

“So, today’s the day, huh?” he asked when Magnus was resting comfortably against him again, head on heart and arms around hip.

“No talking,” Magnus mumbled against his skin.

Magnus, Alec had learned, was not a morning person. For Alec, a morning person, that was a little inconvenient at times and at others he simply slipped out of bed to go running or make breakfast. Like everything, they somehow made it work.

Other times Alec tried to wake Magnus up with various methods. Those times were either good days or incredibly bad ones.

“No talking?” he asked, feigning incredulity. “I’m awake, Magnus, what do you expect me to do if I’m not allowed to leave bed but also can’t talk to you?”

Magnus mumbled something incoherent, but the words didn’t matter. His lips were soft against Alec’s chest and he’d turned so he was lying halfway on top of Alec.

Alec grabbed the back of his thighs to shift him completely on top, then sat up.

“You tryin’ to get me to talk?”

“I want you to be awake for this,” Alec told him.

Magnus sighed, as if being awake was an act that required a great amount of energy he wasn’t prepared to invest. “No.”

Because the _no_ wasn’t directed at him, Alec continued. He ran a trail of butterfly kisses up Magnus’ neck, up to his jaw, then began to press harder, sucking lightly on his way upward, hovering for a moment at the corner of Magnus’ mouth. He smiled.

Magnus had melted under his touch, all of his muscles going slack and leaning heavily on Alec. His voice was a throaty whisper. “Don’t stop.”

Alec didn’t. His mouth was hungry on Magnus’, still remembering being starved. His hands roamed freely, still remembering being bound. He toppled them over, Magnus’ squeal turning into a groan the moment Alec landed on top of him.

“I think this might be worth staying awake for.”

Alec grinned and he let Magnus know it, know his happiness. They moved in a strange sort of unison, the two of them, bodies familiar and strange, colliding but not crashing, not burning. Orbiting around each other without taking more than they gave. Hearts beating in the same rhythm from being around each other for so long. No words needed because they knew each other like they were their favorite books.

Alec hadn’t expected any of it, but now he wouldn’t give it up for the world. He wasn’t able to say how, but he felt lighter when Magnus was around, like the world was a bearable place as long as Magnus was around. So, he held on to that feeling and held on to Magnus.

Magnus dozed off afterward. Alec lay silently, his fingers splayed over Magnus’ ribs, marveling at how perfectly they fit there, and watched him breath. The giddy feeling of being alive coursed through him.

“We should just stay in bed the whole day,” Magnus said, tracing the muscles of Alec’s back.

“Another day.”

Even after almost two months the words still felt surreal to Alec. Another day. They had all the time in the world. And this afternoon they would have the world again. Excitement had been building up in Alec since the night before, and now he let it wash over him, overwhelm him with ideas and possibilities.

Magnus seemed to be too, and they were both silent.

Maguns stopped his circles on Alec’s back and ran his hand through Alec’s hair instead. “We should get up and get decent, shouldn’t we?”

Alec nodded and kissed him briefly.

They showered together. Magnus still couldn’t stand properly, his foot mostly healed yet still in a cast, so Alec helped him clean up. They were quick and efficient that way, _and_ they were saving water.

They had breakfast and then lounged in the living room together, Magnus in an armchair with his legs propped up on an ottoman. Alec lay on a couch close to him, reading out loud while Magnus ran a hand through his hair.

They were stopped mid-sentence by a soft, familiar voice. “I’m surprise to see you boys are up already. Well, it’s only for the better. Shall we?”

Alec smiled at the doctor and put the book away. After the Valentine fiasco he had developed a small, irrational fear of doctors that he’d only realized he had when Consul Penhallow had introduced Dr. Starkweather to them. Their relationship had gotten better since then, the doctor turning into something like a friend. Alec trusted Starkweather. He was the only person they’ve had actual physical contact with since the beginning of their quarantine, but he’d never treated them any different because of it.

Consul Penhallow had insisted on their _removal from the group out of safety reasons_ , meaning she wanted to make sure they and the virus didn’t pose a risk for anyone. Alec knew Starkweather had approved of the notion. Alec also knew it was probably for the best. He couldn’t deny that it was strange that he’d been injected with a deadly virus and somehow hadn’t died.

He missed his siblings, though, missed being around people, and knowing they were only a few minutes walk away made it worse somehow. He knew they were alive, that the Dumort people had evacuated after his group had shown up defeated, knew that the military had picked them up at the city limits and brought them back to the compound, because Isabelle had told him. It wasn’t enough.

But so far the virus hadn’t proven contagious and the last test results had shown a decline of virus cells in his blood. Which meant that Starkweather would release them today. Which meant he would be on Isabelle’s side of the glass wall today and wouldn’t have to talk to her over the phone.

If the latest test results were good.

The walk to Starweather’s office felt too long.

Alec didn’t think of the quarantine as prison, but sometimes it felt like one. A spacious, comfortable prison with separate rooms for kitchen, bathroom, living room, bedroom, and even a gym. A prison he shared with one of the people he loved most in the world. Because it cut him off from everyone else it was a prison, though.

Today, however. _Today._

Dr. Starkweather took swabs and then blood, sent them both to the lab, and then asked Alec to wait in the waiting room while he talked to Magnus alone. Half an hour he said.

Alec hadn’t been away from Magnus for half an hour in six weeks and it made him antsy. He began fidgeting with the chair and with his pants.

“Alec?”

He looked up to find Lydia standing in the doorway. She awkwardly took her hands out of her pockets and crossed her arms in front of her chest. He hadn’t talked to Lydia in six weeks.

“Hi?” she said. Alec remembered the last time they’d talked, their first time since escaping Valentine when Lydia had come instead of Isabelle and told him about how his sister was busy arguing with the Consul on his behalf and how, now that Magnus was doing better, they were very likely to move him into Alec’s _apartment_ because of her. “I, uh, I’m not exactly supposed to be here.”

“I figured,” Alec responded, patting the chair next to him.

She remained standing.

“I just came to see you, I guess, because I think we need to talk. I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to. But I came here to- I just- I’m not a murderer, Alec.”

“I know.”

She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “This is my job. I never walked in there meaning to kill anyone that wasn’t a zombie. When Valentine- when he- he- I never meant to kill him. I wouldn’t have killed him if he hadn’t given me reason to, because, as a soldier, I don’t kill civilians, and I guess that’s what he looked like to you, but to me-”

“I forgive you, Lydia.”

There was nothing to forgive, yet he’d said the words anyway. Because Lydia was rambling, because Lydia needed to hear them. She stopped, stared, and spluttered.

“Lydia, you saved my life, mine and Magnus’ and Jocelyn’s. You killed a man who treated me like less than an animal and wouldn’t have cared if I died. If Magnus died. So, I forgive you, and I thank you. This is- was war and we all did what we have to do.”

He left out that he himself had done things he wasn’t proud of, that he’d let his parents die, had watched his siblings murder zombies that were once people. That _he_ ’d murdered zombies that were once people. He’d been selfish and heartless. But he was forgiving himself for it, too, sometimes.

Lydia looked at the floor, then back at him. “Thank you,” she whispered, before hurrying across the room and into the seat next to him. Up close he could see how young she still was, maybe a few years older than himself. Her long blond hair falling freely around her shoulders made her seem younger still.

Alec smiled. She took his hands. _It’s_ _nothing_ , he mouthed. Lydia smiled back.

He felt lighter than before.

“So, how did you get access to the medical wing?” he prompted.

“I did my medical training with the military. That's why I'm here in the first place. I have clearance for the office...except not when you are here.”

“That's how you knew about the syringe with adrenaline. Dr. Starkweather told me about Jocelyn's condition, what she'd done to keep herself sedated, and what you'd done so she was suddenly awake. I mean, self induced coma, wow. I wouldn't have known the first thing about it.”

Lydia shrugged the praise off. “It was a risky move, but I couldn't just leave her to his devices, so I took the opportunity. I'm just glad she recovered properly. Speaking of which, she's excited to meet you. _Everyone_ is excited for you guys to come back. I'm not supposed to tell you, but they might be planning a welcome back party. I think I saw them hanging up banners in the common room earlier, anyway. Might be for someone else though, I mean, there's all sorts of people-”

“Lydia,” Dr. Starkweather's voice cut through her rambling. They both whipped around to face him, Lydia's posture straightening immediately. The doctor just smiled. Magnus hobbled past him, surprisingly elegant and nimble on his crutches.

“Colonel Branwell,” he said, wearing a grin that made Alec’s smile widen into the twin of it. “I don’t think we’ve really met before. Alec, darling, I do believe you have a doctor’s appointment, so if you don’t mind me talking to your charming friend alone?”

Alec mumbled something that he hoped had been indecipherable for both of them before kissing Magnus’ cheek and following Starkweather.

The door closed behind them and then he was alone with the doctor, just as he'd been at the beginning of this whole ordeal.

“So, Alec. Anything you want to talk about?”

Alec had been to enough of these sessions with Starkweather to know it meant _Do you feel like there is something wrong with you that I, as your physician/therapist should know about?_ Starkweather was no certified therapist, but as the highest ranking army doctor Idris had he had to know about everything.

“No, I feel fine.”

“You look good,” Starkweather answered, and coming from his doctor Alec knew it meant it was the truth. “So, Magnus told me the two of you are planning on moving to New York. That seems a little far from here, doesn’t it?”

“It does, but honestly, doc, I think this may be what we need. We’ve looked at other cities, but we liked New York the most. For one thing we speak the language, then there are some great universities, and there are a lot of people. I just- I feel like it’s the best place for a new start.”

Alec felt hopelessly inadequate, talking about his dreams and wishes for a future that had no form yet. It wasn’t that he couldn’t imagine himself in ten years, it was that he didn’t want to, and so he didn’t. He knew he wanted to be with Magnus still, knew he wanted to be a writer, probably, knew he wanted to never experience anything like the last months again. There were, however, a thousand ways to reach these goals, and Alec didn’t want to imagine taking them all. He would just take them as they came.

“Is that what you want then, to start again?”

“Well, not _again_ ,” Alec corrected. “Just...start, you know? Like, there’s no way we can just forget everything that’s happened, so no matter where I go I’ll take some of it with me. Always will. But I can still have a future, a future shaped through what happened, and I can start living. Because what I’ve been doing before Valentine wasn’t exactly that.”

Starkweather smiled at him, so Alec guessed he must have been articulate enough for him to understand. He’d gotten better at that, at making people understand him.

“What does Isabelle say about your plans? Have you talked to her about them yet?”

“I did, actually. She was happy for me. Jocelyn and Luke are thinking about moving into a more rural area so they’ve looked at houses upstate. I think they’d like to go to London with Clary, but they also want to be as far from Alicante as possible, so they’re following Simon to New York. Which means Izzy will probably live with them after she’s done helping the Consul here in Alicante.”

“Right, right. She told me she had no idea what to study yet. And Clary got an art scholarship in London. Jace is going with her, isn’t he? How do you feel about that?”

“I-um-it’s weird? To think that he won’t be down the hall anymore, not even in the same city. But at the same time it doesn’t mean we won’t see each other anymore, so I’m trying to be happy for him. I really hope he’ll get into the music program he’s applied for.”

“We all do, I think. You kids all deserve better than this.” The amazing thing about Dr. Starkweather was, that he could call them kids without making Alec feel like he was seven. “Magnus told me he was going to continue his MD. What about you? You did English Lit., didn’t you?”

“I was. I think I’m going to continue, but I’m not sure. I’ll just apply and then see if it works out or if I should just-”

There was a knock at the door. A dark skinned nurse peeked through it.

“Sir?” he said, holding out a clip board to Dr. Starkweather.

The doctor’s eyebrows shot up. “Already? That was fast.”

He got up and took the results from the nurse. As he flipped through the papers his smiling face didn’t waver. Finally he sat down, looking at Alec again. “Do you want to finish that?”

Alec shrugged. He felt cold and a little sick, because those papers had to be their results. Which reminded him that his future, everything he’d told the doctor, depended on the next moments. It all felt so vastly full of potential and fragile at the same time. “Maybe I’ll just start writing. I think people might be interested in what I have to say.”

Starkweather nodded, then handed him the papers. At the top of the first page was his name, on the other one Magnus’. They looked almost the same, but the numbers didn’t tell Alec anything. Magnus might have known, but not him.

“I think Magnus’ll be very happy when you show these to him. And then I suggest you get Lydia to show you where you can print out your college applications because the deadlines are very close.”

Alec blinked at Starkweather, then back at the papers. The numbers were still just numbers, but they started to form a shape. Negative. They’d tested negative. The virus cells were down, they were free. “I think- I think I want to see my family first.”

Dr. Starkweather smiled approvingly. “Right. A little bird told me you have a welcome back party to get to?”  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now that you all have suffered through some days of "How was that not the end? What is she gonna do to them next?" here's the end. Full of fluff.   
> Seriously though, I would like to thank everyone for reading and sticking with the story even though I had no idea where this was headed when I started posting (which I think you can see from the chapters) and also didn't update for three months in between. You guys are awesome and I hope this is a satisfying ending, and that you enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. XO.


End file.
